


Sub Rosa

by Impala_Chick



Category: Band of Brothers, Generation Kill, The Pacific - Fandom, The Tudors
Genre: 16th Century CE, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Assassins & Hitmen, Big Bang Challenge, F/M, Het, Jousting, M/M, Male Slash, Religious Conflict, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercenary Brad Colbert returns to England after a mission to find the life he had left turned upside down. Young Nathaniel Fick is knighted and becomes a loyal aid to King Henry VIII. Brad is recruited to protect the Tudor Court after death threats become too heavy for the Court ignore. Even with all the pageantry and jousting and parties at Court, Brad and Nate still become ensnared in the inescapable politics involved in pleasing The King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nolens volens

**Author's Note:**

> Written for War Big Bang 2012, with art by finite_farfalla. Masterpost can be found [HERE](http://drop-mypencil.livejournal.com/17869.html); with historical notes, a brief guide to The Tudors characters, and a historical epilogue.
> 
> *There are a few clickable words in Chapter One which will bring you to pictures of the16th century clothing described in the fic.

**Prologue**  
London, England. 1529. 

Explorer Sebastian Cabot’s ship docked in London Harbor on a bright afternoon. A light breeze tried to lift up the sails as they were lowered. The ship creaked as it rocked back and forth with the movement of the Thames. Sailors lowered themselves onto the row boats to paddle to shore. Shouts of jubilation mixed with grumbles of descent as seamen attempted to become land creatures again. The dock was crowded with people and cargo as ships were unloaded and people admired all of the fine textiles and foodstuffs brought from Spain, France and even Germany. The sailors tried to pay no mind as they waded through the crowds. 

Once on the streets of London, Cabot’s sailors shook hands and went their separate ways. Many were sure they would see each other again on the next voyage, although rumors abounded that Cabot was going to be taking his ship to Spain since the King was not very intent on finding new worlds. Brad thought that was because King Henry was much more intent on bedding a particularly attractive woman, although he could never say that in public. Brad didn’t think that telling something to Ray counted as saying it in public. 

He and Ray and Walt had been hired to act as the security for the ship, should anything go wrong. Like Ray liked to say, they had to make sure no one fucked up. Normally the three of them did much more intelligence gathering type work, but Cabot agreed to a hefty fee. Being commissioned by the King had its perks. Brad knew that he would soon need to head home to his estate to check on his affairs at home. He had been away for nearly three years. He also really wanted to take a bath and shave his beard, which had been quite itchy lately. But Ray slung his arm around Brad and Walt and offered to buy them a drink and Brad wasn’t one to refuse. Besides, his page had not yet arrived with his horse. 

But that didn’t mean Brad had to be excited about being able to drink with Ray and Walt. Brad’s scowling face did nothing to dampen Ray’s mood. 

“You know Iceman, I am surprised at your complete lack of excitement. I mean, really. In days of yore you would have been beside yourself to get back to your sweet Rose. Now you act as if it is just another day in London and you are just another yeoman ready to drink your draft and bend over for the King. What is up your ass?” 

“Ray, I need you to close your mouth before someone gets hurt.” 

To Ray’s credit he had thrown back a couple drafts already. To Brad’s credit he had spent a lot of time at sea with Ray as a constant presence at his side. And to Walt’s credit, he did give Ray a few warning looks.

“Brad, something is amiss when your best friend can’t even get you to relax after a three year long job. I’m just trying to clear the air, is all.”

“Careful, Ray. You throw around the phrase best friend like you mean it.” Brad smirked.

Walt rolled his eyes. “Can we ever just enjoy our drafts in peace?” 

Ray tossed Walt a wink that Brad’s well trained eye unfortunately noticed before the three of them lifted their mugs in cheers. 

Brad downed his draft, left his brothers in arms on their own, and headed for the door. Hopefully his page had arrived by now. 

Once outside, the cool breeze from the Thames ruffled Brad’s long blond hair. He ran his hand through it, disgusted at its ridiculous length. 

“Your grace!” A young boy came galloping up on a tall brown horse whose mane was tossing in the wind and whose eyes were blown wide, like the boy’s. They both projected a certain urgency that wasn’t lost on Brad.

The boy leapt from the sweaty horse and bowed swiftly.

“I just received word that you were back.” The boy removed his hat and nervously tugged at its brim. Sweat was dripping from his forehead.

“What has happened?” 

Brad crossed his arms and waited. His young and eager page’s face was streaked with grime and it looked like he had been crying. 

“The Lady Rose…,” he started, but his lip quivered.

Brad took his arm and guided him to lean against the horse. 

“It’s ok, Trombley. Take a breath.” 

Brad had been away so long, and his wife was left alone to tend the estate and all his sheep and horses. The stress surely must have gotten to her. And Brad had barely thought of her the entire trip. He knew, somehow, that whatever had happened was surely his fault.

The page’s stormy blue eyes stared into Brad’s. Brad knew he hoped to escape punishment for whatever great incident had happened.

“She’s remarried.” 

Brad felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. For a moment he could find no words. This was not at all what he would have guessed. Brad felt anger well up inside him, white hot and ready to tangle with his guilt. He clenched his fists.

“How long ago?”

“Four months, your grace,” The page answered meekly, looking at his leather shoes.

Brad reigned himself in, decided to lock his heart away before the very blood running through his veins boiled over. He didn’t want to yell at Trombley or anyone else. That would not befit such a mercenary of his reputation.

With a curt “Thank you, Trombley,” Brad mounted his steed and galloped back home to clean up his mess.

Royal flags fluttered in the breeze from atop high stone towers. A dark chestnut horse pulling a cart with large thin wheels approached St. George’s Chapel. The cart was received by royal gatemen dressed in red and ushered into the courtyard. A man with blonde hair stepped out and immediately stuck out his hand to help down a woman whose flowing curls where tucked behind her ear. Both of them looked youthful and amazed as they gazed upon the splendor of the huge stone structures supporting the palace. Men dressed in the red royal uniform bustled around them, seemingly making preparations for the ceremony the couple had come to watch. This was the first time the couple had come to St. George’s Chapel, although it was not the first time they had been to London.

The woman’s cheeks glowed with pride. She was dressed in a [deep sapphire kirtle and green skirt](http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSc5Qno2QRgIJtzXEzYLOfpQHiXRVE3Q6WzWAAoTgaVrdG3zOLE&t=1). Her sleeves were puffed and there were intricate patterns on her green skirt. Both were added to her sapphire kirtle especially for the occasion. The man held her arm as the pair of them walked through a dimly lit corridor to the guest chambers. A young page wearing the royal symbol followed them with a modest chest of clothes. 

A young man, not more than 22, with sparkling blue eyes and a nervous smile greeted the couple. 

“Oh, Nate,” The woman said, pulling him close for a hug after the door was closed. Hugging might not have been so appropriate had strangers been able to witness. 

“I’m so glad you could come, Mother and Father,” Nate said as he bowed to his father. He shook his hand and Nate couldn’t help but notice how proud his father looked. 

“I’m so glad your [jerkin](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-47aiouusbqw/TwhtPKLDGYI/AAAAAAAAAzw/EJHXl8nOorc/s320/BlueJerkin.jpg) turned out well. You always looked good in dark blue. You look so handsome today, Nate.” Nate’s mother tugged appreciatively at the gold buttons adorning his jerkin and touched the sword that hung from his belt. 

“We are wanted in the Chapel now, I am sure.” Nate’s father smiled at him and Nate beamed. The three of them walked through more corridors which Nate expertly navigated. 

The Chapel was adorned with huge red banners. The fading light from the setting sun seeped in through the window and lit up The King’s gold-adorned chair. Nate walked his parents to the side of the room, next to the waiting flag bearers. A page hurried off to announce that the Ficks had arrived.

Nate straightened his jerkin and cleared his throat. He stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a few older Knights. Most were not well-known, but some he had spent time training with. He nodded at them. The Knights of the Garter all held large gold encrusted orbs and gold scepters. Their ornate robes rustled whenever they moved. 

Nate smiled at his tutor; he was grateful for his presence. When he was a young boy of four, his father had chosen this man to teach Nate Latin, geography, literature, jousting, sword fighting; everything a boy who was destined to serve His Majesty should know. Nate’s parents taught him as a young student that he had to trust his tutor’s judgment and respect his orders, and they had designated Nate’s tutor as his Godfather. Nate had taken to calling the man Godfather early on. Godfather had traveled a long way to come to this ceremony. Nate had eaten supper with him earlier that day and knew that Godfather was proud, if not hoping to get a chance to talk to Nate still more about war and Court life.

A page scurried off to give word to The King that the guests had arrived. Shortly Cardinal Wolsey, The King’s chief adviser, entered the room along with his assistant Mr. Cromwell. Mr. Cromwell was dressed in a simple brown jerkin, which was a sharp contrast to Cardinal Wolsey’s long and bright red robes. The royal trumpet player signaled for everyone to bow, and King Henry VIII entered the room to take his thrown, his red robes trailing out behind him. He opened his arms in greeting as he took a seat.

“Nathaniel Fick! Even though you are one of the younger men I have knighted, but I’ve been assured of your outstanding skills and intelligence. I’ve been told you enjoy reading?” King Henry’s booming voice held everyone in rapt attention. 

Nate put his head up to address The King, but he stayed on bended knee.

“Yes, your majesty. Both old and contemporary works,” Nate said while taking care not to look The King in the eye. 

“Excellent, excellent. A fine writer too, I am aware. Mr. Cromwell?” Mr. Cromwell produced a large silver sword from its case and handed to The King. 

Cromwell gestured for Nate to put up his right hand. “Nathaniel Fick, do you solemnly swear to serve The King with all of your heart with only God above him, forever?”

“I do.” 

The King raised the sword, and touched the wide metal blade to Nate’s left shoulder. Nate concentrated on keeping his body from shaking. He took a deep breath and let The King’s words wash over him. 

“As The King of England, before God and the Knights of the Garter, I knight you Sir Nathaniel Fick.” 

The sword rested on Nate’s right shoulder for a brief moment before The King lifted the sword and motioned for Cromwell to return it to its sheath. 

“Thank you, your majesty.” Nate looked The King in the eye when he said it.

Everyone applauded and The King smiled. One of the Knights of the Order placed a decorated white and red robe on Nate’s shoulders and he stood and walked out, his parents following close behind. 

Outside, Knights of the Order were talking amongst each other. There was to be a meeting of the Order soon. Cardinal Wolsey and Mr. Cromwell were among the Knights, talking and smiling. Nate tried not to let his parents feel out of place as he introduced them to some of the men he knew. 

Cardinal Wolsey approached and Nate bowed. “Ah, Nathaniel!” Cardinal Wolsey greeted him with a hand shake after Nate stood up. Nate had just recently arrived at Court and did not know him or Mr. Cromwell well, except that he knew they were both Privy Council to The King. He was surprised that Cardinal Wolsey was personally greeting him. Nate took it all in stride, however. 

“These are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Fick.” Nate’s parents bowed in greeting. 

“Your love of reading has inspired many at Court, Sir Nathaniel.” Cardinal Wolsey smiled. Nate recognized that smile as slightly patronizing. Cardinal Wolsey continued.

“I hear you even read Master Webster’s new works. His philosophies seem a bit… disingenuous.” Cardinal Wolsey baited Nate for a response. Nate knew that Master Webster’s work had begun to attract controversy, but he was a new writer that seemed to speak to Nate’s generation more than the old works of Latin scripture. Nate saw no harm in following his work.

“Yes, I have sampled some of his writing. But Master Webster does try to speak honestly and I do believe he means no harm.” Nate hoped that answer would satisfy the Cardinal. 

“Very well then.” Cardinal Wolsey nodded and moved on, but he did not smile. Nate could see Mr. Cromwell out of the corner of his eye. He was just within ear shot and he seemed to be content just soaking up information.

Nate told himself he would do well to be wary of them both.

**3 years later**

**Nolens volens**  
 _whether willing or not_

Brad had finished tending to the sheep that morning and had gone through a sword fighting lesson with Trombley, his page. He had even tidied up his own kitchen with the cook, even though he really didn’t need to do that. He had never liked having servants clean his home for him. Now he was milling about, searching for another book to read or some piece of furniture to repair. He hated being idle; it only made him think of the past. He was currently in between jobs and he figured he would head into London as soon as meal time was over to see if he couldn’t find someone in need of a mercenary. As he paced in front of his front window, he heard hooves pounding up the dirt path and he watched as a rider dismounted gracefully in front of his estate. Brad waited for Trombley to lead the visitor to him in order to have more time to observe the man.

The mysterious rider was dressed in deep sapphire. His jerkin was stretched tight across his chest and Brad could see how fit he was. On his breast was the red crest of the Tudor house. His hat had a single feather to accent it, marking his high status. His bright and clever blue eyes glinted at Brad as he swept himself into a courteous bow. But the part of him that really drew Brad’s eye was the man’s full lips, just tinged with pink. His lips reminded Brad of a fair courtly lady, and when they tilted up into a smile Brad was enchanted. Brad shook himself. Clearly this man was sent by the King. 

“Your Grace? You must be Bradley Colbert, the Iceman.” The rider looked pleased to meet him. 

“I have been called that now and again, yes. And you are?” Brad did not keep the sarcasm from his voice, but he hoped the smile on his face showed that he meant no disrespect.

“Forgive me. I am Sir Nathaniel Fick.” Nate smirked for a moment, but then his facial expression changed to that of a typical court knight. His jaw was set, his mouth was in a firm line, and he looked fierce and proud with his shoulders squared. He began to unroll a scroll.

“Please tell me to what do I owe this pleasure,” Brad said. 

“His Majesty the King is in need of a skilled mercenary to serve him at Court. The Lady Anne has received death threats, as has a few other members of his Court. The King is highly suspicious and wishes for you, a man of such high reputation, to come to Court immediately.” Nate promptly rolled the scroll back up and handed it to Brad with a flourish. 

Brad bowed deeply and accepted the scroll. 

“I shall serve my King well, as is my duty.”

“He will be pleased. I should add that he is also offering a hefty purse for your service.” Nate smiled briefly again, his eyes lingering on Brad’s for a little longer than entirely necessary. Then he turned and mounted his grey stallion.

“I shall see you at Court then, Sir,” Brad called to the mounted Knight.

“Indeed,” Nate answered with a nod before he cantered down the path.

“Well,” Brad began, turning to Trombley, “we have work to do. Send word to Person and Hasser. They will be willing to take over my estate in my absence.” 

Trombley bounded off in the direction of the stables to prepare his horse. Brad smiled to himself. There was no post as noble or as exciting as serving the King.

Nate returned to Court and passed along word to His Majesty of Colbert’s impending arrival. Colbert’s high reputation preceded him, and Nate did not have any worries about him adjusting to his courtly duties. However, The King had reminded Nate that Colbert was to be in his care. Since Nate was so well versed in the whom-is-in-league-with-whom intricacies of King Henry VIII’s court, he would quickly be able to point out suspects and allies.

However, there was a Court party to make ready for and Nate did not have time to dwell. Lady Anne was to be named Marquesate of Pembroke and The King had ordered all of the finest linens to be laid out. 30 hogs had to be dressed and ready for the banquet, which meant the great hall needed to be prepped early so that the cooks could set the tables. 

He made his way to the great hall, where his men were already busy laying tablecloths and putting up royal banners. Gunny caught Nate’s eye as he entered. 

“How did it go, Sir?” 

“He agreed. The King is pleased.” Nate avoided Gunny’s gaze as he spoke.

“What else?” Gunny inquired, pressing Nate when he noticed Nate’s demeanor. Nate was sure a blush was rising in his cheeks, but he decided to keep his observations of the mercenary with the reputation and the piercing blue eyes to himself.

Nate raised his eyebrow, usually the only outward sign of mischief Nate allowed himself.  
“Just wait until you meet him.” 

Gunny laughed as Christeson and Stafford called across the hall, “Sir? Does this banner look straight?”

“Aye!” Nate called back. He rolled his eyes. These mere trifles always slightly annoyed him. He would rather be recommending a policy initiative to The King’s cabinet or discussing ways to better prepare the Royal Navy for battle. But The King’s happiness was paramount, and dazzling parties were one of the surest ways to lighten The King’s mood.

Upon his sure footed steed’s back, Brad had never felt freer. He had finally cut his hair, and the wind whistled past his ears and blocked out all other sounds. He was wearing his finest crimson so that he would be received at Court wearing his best attire, but he didn’t think about that as he splashed through mud puddles and tore around trees. He had seen the strife that had struck London and many other parts of England once he had returned. It was like he had come back to a whole new country. There was discontent and struggle because the churches and the people themselves feared what could happen to the Catholic Church and England itself if The Vatican’s wishes were not respected by King Henry. It seemed the only mercenary work available these days was hunting down heretics or protecting church relics, neither of which truly appealed to Brad.

Luckily for him, Sir Fick had come along when he ddid. Not soon after, Brad was implored by stewards of Sir Thomas More to join the Catholic cause. It was funny how quickly one’s reputation got around. In any other circumstances, to refuse would have been like placing a target on his back. Brad didn’t like getting involved in religious matters. But if he placed himself even closer to the lion’s den, it might be discovered that he was raised Jewish. No man of Sir Thomas More’s would have allowed that to go unpunished. 

But as it were, Brad could have a moment of abandon as he made his way to Court. He knew that once there he would have to be on his best behavior, whatever that looked like. Brad hadn’t had to behave for company in quite some time. After Lady Rose, he had not really entertained anyone and preferred being alone. Sometimes Ray and Walt would drag him out for a drink or three, but they would rarely traverse an establishment fine enough for royalty. 

As he approached the castle, he slowed his stallion and produced his royal scroll. The guards waved him in and a page came to collect his horse. Brad tried to straighten out his clothes but realized that there was entirely too much mud on his boots. He followed the directions of the Royal guards, but before entering the great hall he ducked into a corridor to try and knock the mud off his boots. 

He kicked against the stone wall just as someone appeared from the shadows. 

“You’re right.” As soon as he spoke, Brad knew it was the knight who had summoned him here.  
Nate stepped out from the shadows to stand face to face with Brad.

“Sir Nathaniel. What is it I am right about?” 

“It’s better to leave remnants of your adventures out here.” Nate intoned without smiling. Brad noticed Nate’s eyebrow rise, however. This was the only sign Brad got that Nate meant for the mood to be light. 

“You would know, Sir, seeing as you are wondering through shadows away from the party.” Brad took a risk with his retort, but luckily Nate did not even flinch at Brad’s brazen sarcasm.  
“Well sometimes even knights could use a moment to themselves.” Nate smiled this time and Brad felt his tongue grow thicker. 

“I should probably make my way inside,” Brad said, touching his hand to his hat in salute. 

“I’m sure the Court will receive you well. I’m assured of this.” Nate nodded to Brad and waved him forward. 

Brad stepped through huge wooden double doors and sucked in a breath. The sight before him was decadent to say the least. Upon long tables were roasted pigs, turkeys and slices of beef. Baskets of fruit and loaves of bread seemed to be in endless supply. Royal banners adorned all the walls. People in fabulous costumes paraded around the hall. Ladies of all shapes and sizes danced happily to the music of a violin player. Brad gazed across the dance floor to the head table, where King Henry VIII and Lady Ann Boleyn were seated upon huge golden chairs. 

It was then that he remembered his duty as a mercenary. _Observe everything, admire nothing_. He turned around expecting to see Nate, but he had disappeared. Brad started to scope the entire room, taking stock of every man. Brad immediately noticed a man with piercing blue eyes that kept shooting the Lady Anne dirty looks; Jealousy if Brad ever saw it. There was a man with curly brown hair who had the seal of the Spanish emperor upon his robes. Brad figured he must be the Spanish Ambassador. He looked just about as pleased as the first man. There was an older man with white hair who was so happy he looked like he had been crowned King himself. Then there was a man who resembled Lady Anne, but he seemed to only have eyes for the violin player. 

Brad decided that now would be as good a time as any to begin understanding the ways of Court. He grabbed ha glass of wine and settled down on a bench next to one of the Ladies in Waiting. He smiled at her and started to comment on the scrumptious spread of supper items while he continued surveying potential suspects. She introduced herself as Lady Margaret and touched her hand lightly to Brad’s arm after she laughed at something Brad said. Brad thought it odd that Nate was nowhere to be seen.

Outside the courtyard, Nate was walking along one of the royal ponds next to Mr. Cromwell. Cromwell currently held the title of the Earl of Essex, besides being Cardinal Wolsey’s most important assistant. Everyone at Court knew his story because he was labeled a commoner, a man of no noble background; many made fun of him both behind his back and to his face for this. His shrewd demeanor did not do much to attract friends. Nate also knew that Cromwell was a smart lawyer, a real intellectual. It was rumored that Cromwell, along with Lady Anne, was influencing the King and forcing the reformation forward. Nate had been beckoned outside for a private conversation. The topic was one Nate had been expecting to have to discuss one of these days.

“I need to know, Sir Nathaniel. Are you for the reformation or against?” Cromwell’s voice was hushed and his eyes kept darting around the pond, to make sure no one was listening. Nate had never really been impressed by the Earl, but he had to respect his determination.

“I believe you know that I am a Catholic,” Nate began carefully. 

“This isn’t about how you choose to practice religion. This is about stopping the cruel rule of shepherds over their sheep. This is about stopping Church abuses. This is about letting people actually read the word of God themselves.” Cromwell’s eyes burned bright as he relayed what must be his most important passion. 

Nate recoiled from it. He felt that even thinking about reformation was like betraying his family. 

“I understand what the reformation is, but I’m afraid the importance of it escapes me,” Nate finally decided to say, avoiding Cromwell’s gaze.

Cromwell nodded and put his hands behind his back. 

“Very well. The King has requested that a Knight in his service go to Sir Thomas More’s estate and convince him of the virtues of the Submission of the Clergy Act, the Act that forces Clergy to answer and follow the will of The King as well as God. As you may be aware, Sir Thomas More has defied the King in this matter and resigned from his position as Chancellor as a result. The King wishes to be sure that Sir Thomas More cannot be convinced to return to Court. I have chosen you to be that Knight. You should only have to stay for a few days.” 

Nate was intrigued. 

“But Cromwell, surely you have just heard what I have said. It is likely that I will find sympathy with Sir Thomas.” 

Cromwell smiled. He seemed to be pleased that Nate was catching on to some plan of his. Or maybe Cromwell was just trying to unsettle him. It seemed like either possibility was likely.

“I have full faith that Sir Thomas will never change his mind. You are to be sent because you will both satisfy The King and not disturb Sir Thomas.” 

“Why would _you_ like not to disturb Sir Thomas?” Nate pressed.

“Because, Sir Nathaniel, I don’t think he deserves that. Besides, he is not a true threat to the reformation anymore.” 

Confusion flashed across Nate’s face and he knew that Cromwell noticed. 

“It’s okay to have questions, Sir Nate.” Cromwell turned to walk back to the Great Hall.

“It’s Sir Nathaniel,” Nate said under his breath. Cromwell ignored the comment.

“You leave tomorrow!” Cromwell called over his shoulder. 

Just as quickly as Cromwell had accosted him, he was gone. Nate tried not to think too much about being chosen for this assignment. He had a mission and he had to complete it. It didn’t hurt that he would get to meet one of the great leaders of Christiandome in the process.  
He made his way back to the Great Hall, becoming more and more eager to leave London and do something more worthy of his time.

Brad wasn’t really watching the doors, but he noticed when Nate walked back in. They briefly made eye contact and Brad nodded. He politely disengaged himself from the Lady he had been talking to, Lady Margaret, and made his way over.

“What happened?” Brad asked Nate as he handed him a glass of cup.

“What do you mean?” Nate took the cup and sipped. Brad couldn’t help but watch as Nate brought the cup back down from his mouth.

“You have been gone from your own party and you look excited. I would guess you just got an assignment.” Brad took a sip from his own cup to cover his smile.

“You better be careful, Bradley. You can’t know everything that happens at Court already.” Nate tipped his feathered hat in thanks for the drink and turned to greet other members of Court. He introduced Brad to many different important people, including Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, and the members of the Boleyn family. Brad smiled politely and tried to memorize names and faces. 

It became obvious to Brad how different Court life was compared to the way the rest of England lived. Maybe it was because everyone was dressed in fine silks and had their hair washed, but every member of court looked radiant. 

Brad noticed a page was hovering near where he stood and Brad politely shook George Boleyn’s hand before turning to the page. 

“Colbert? The King has requested an audience.” The page turned and Brad followed after shooting Nate a glance. 

He was led through a wide corridor and then into the throne room. Brad quickly swept his arm across his chest and fell into a deep bow. 

“Bradley Colbert! I am so glad to have you at Court,” King Henry VIII boomed. His voice seemed to fill the room.

“Your Majesty, the pleasure is mine.” Brad stood up straight, his hands behind his back. He finally was able to gaze at The King, although he did not look him in the eye. His throne was edged with Gold and his thick red robe trailed on the ground next to him. The King had blue eyes that seemed at once brooding and youthful. He tapped his fingers up and down on his armrest, and his rings glinted from the sunlight streaming in from the window. 

“As you know, I need you to act as mercenary in Court. What you may not know is that I also want you to track the changes in Gunpowder use.” 

“Are you referring to guns, your majesty?”

King Henry tapped his fingers on his chin in contemplation. “Yes. I want them out of my Court. Those things should be left to the battlefield. Anyone with one will be banished.” 

“Understood, your majesty.” Brad was dismissed with a wave of The King’s hand, and he reentered the Great Hall. 

Brad couldn’t help but think that whole experience had been rather odd. The King was just a man; A stout and well-spoken man who had managed to maintain his youthfulness and handsome appearance, but a man nonetheless. How easy that was to forget. He did wonder why The King had a personal vendetta against guns, though. At that point Brad began to relax further. He looked around at all the seemingly happy people talking and laughing and couldn’t understand why any one of them would want to complicate Court life. The grandiose nature of their behavior put Brad’s teeth on edge, though. 

Brad saw that Lady Anne was a skilled dancer. Her smile was infectious and she dragged those around her onto the dance floor. Nate was one of the ones caught up in the dance, and Brad couldn’t help but watch as he gracefully wove in and out of a group of ladies. He smiled at them and took their hands gently as they went around in a circle. He twirled them like it was the most normal maneuver in the world; like he had practiced for years. But he displayed a carefree attitude and his smile was wide. Those things made him easily the youngest looking man on the dance floor. 

Brad caught himself smiling and he realized that was probably completely inappropriate. 

He grabbed another cup of wine and sat at a bench, purposefully studying Charles Brandon and the Spanish Ambassador. Both seemed to be on their best behavior, even if their faces betrayed that they would rather be thrown into a vat of boiling water. They remained at the party and engaged with other quests. Brandon would occasionally smile and dance with his young wife. Brad didn’t think either of these men were likely traitors, but he would keep an eye on them anyway. 

Nate returned from the dance floor to take a seat next to him and his expression was again serious.

“What did The King say?” Nate asked in a terse whisper.

“He said to make sure there aren’t any guns at Court.” Brad was still watching Brandon and the Ambassador, and Nate followed his line of sight.

“Well it looks like you have already picked out Lady Anne’s most likely enemies. I shouldn’t be surprised.” Brad felt Nate’s gaze on him, and he turned to Nate.

“You better be careful, Sir Nate. You can’t know everything that happens at Court already,” Brad mocked. Nate clearly recalled their previous conversation, because his eyebrow rose and that was enough proof for Brad. Nate did not take the bait though.

“I noticed that you called me Nate, but I think I will let that go for now. Also, I will be leaving for a few days to visit Sir Thomas More just so you are aware.” 

Brad was amazed at the way Nate could seamlessly transition from a joke to business. Brad might have missed the subtle change in Nate’s tone had he not been watching Nate's face as he spoke. 

“Noted, sir.” Brad looked back out at the guests and Nate did the same.

In the distance, a small dark brown cottage had smoke rising from its chimney. Next to the house, Nate could see a farmhouse and a large shed. He slowed his mare as a young page came out to greet him.

“Welcome to Sir Thomas More’s home, Knight.” The page bowed before taking hold of Nate’s horse’s bridle. 

Nate smiled at the greeting and was promptly pointed in the direction of the front door. He took a deep breath as he watched his mare being led away. Then he knocked on the front door.  
A stout woman with wisps of gray hair sticking out of her [white coif](http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium/portrait-of-a-young-woman-with-a-white-coif--1541-hans-holbein-the-younger.jpg) opened the door with a guarded smile but honest eyes.

“You must be Sir Nathaniel. I’m Lady Alice, Sir Thomas’ wife,” she said as she ushered him inside.

“I am, Lady Alice. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Nate removed his hat from his head to bow to her. Everyone who knew of Sir Thomas More knew of his outspoken second wife, Lady Alice. 

“I’m sure it is.” She laughed and walked ahead. Nate smirked and followed her. He felt like he was going to like this woman. 

“Sir Thomas, your visitor has arrived!” Lady Alice called from the hallway. Nate entered a living room that seemed to be filled with children, all busy with needlework or reading. He was surprised at the orderliness of Sir Thomas’ house. 

Sir Thomas himself emerged from a different room, and Nate bowed to him.

“Sir Nathaniel. Your presence here is welcomed.” Sir Thomas smiled warmly. It made Nate wonder what he had done to deserve such niceties. 

“Thank you, Sir Thomas.” 

“Allow me to give you a tour of my modest home.” Sir Thomas ushered Nate around the Estate, obviously proud of what he had. 

Nate admired the 3 rooms in the house that housed Sir Thomas’ 4 children and 2 students. Sir Thomas told him that he would be staying in his son John’s bed. He was escorted outside where he saw Sir Thomas’ horses. Sir Thomas also had a cell in his stables. 

“This is to house and interview heretics before they are condemned.” Sir Thomas told this to Nate with such matter-of-factness that Nate would have been hard pressed to find any sympathy emanating from Sir Thomas. That immediately seemed like such a contradiction to his reputation at Court. 

From there, Sir Thomas led Nate to a small bench under a tree and asked him to have a seat. Sir Thomas folded his hands into his lap.

“I hear you were sent here to convince me of the merits of the Submission of the Clergy act. I also hear you are a practicing Catholic.” 

“On both counts you are correct. But how did you-”

Sir Thomas cut him off.

“I still have contacts at Court, Sir Nathaniel. Take care to remember that.” Sir Thomas’ voice was stern and Nate was slightly taken aback. Surely Sir Thomas did not intend for that statement to be the threat it had sounded like. 

“I will do that, Sir.” Nate should have known that Sir Thomas would be a skilled politician on top of being a religious scholar and renowned writer. Sir Thomas could not be held in such high regard by The King if he wasn’t. Of course Sir Thomas would have gathered information before Nate’s visit. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that suddenly enveloped him.

Back at Court, Brad was busy pacing through the hallway near The King’s chamber. Night had fallen, and everything was dark and filled with shadows. Brad idly thought about all the different Kings and Queens that had walked these halls, and he felt slightly unsettled. He touched his crossbow slung across his back, just to reassure himself that he was armed, dangerous, and alone.

As a mercenary, he was no stranger to death. Nor was he a stranger to unsettling things, thanks to Ray. But all of the decadence and politics at Court made him uneasy, like he was out of his element. 

A shadow moved across a hallway to Brad’s right, and he hugged the wall as he rounded the corner to follow it. He could make out the shape of an indistinct man heading toward the King’s chamber. It was too dark to see what he was wearing or what he looked like, and Brad cursed his inability to see in the dark. He couldn’t shoot the man in case he was actually supposed to be there. The way the man took care not to make any noises made Brad think otherwise, but there was no way to be sure. 

The mysterious man walked boldly through the two large double doors that lead to The King’s chambers and eventually to The King’s bedroom, but he looked over his shoulder just as Brad stepped out of the shadows. It was then that Brad noticed the top of a metal barrel sticking up over his shoulder. The man saw Brad’s eyes flash with recognition and Brad took off after him. Two pairs of feet pounded over cobblestone and whipped around corners. Brad was fast but this man seemed to be faster. Not only that, but the man with the gun knew the layout of the building better than he did because he kept darting into small corridors and disappearing. 

“Damnit,” Brad cursed under his breath. He had lost him, and try as he might he couldn’t hear anything that might give him a clue as to where the man had gone. He started to case the entire palace, inch by inch. By this time it must have been 3 in the morning. 

He was almost back to the great hall when he happened upon the Spanish Ambassador. The Ambassador looked like he was in a hurry, but he stopped when he saw Brad. 

“Mr. Ambassador. It is rather late to be attending to business. Or early, rather.” Brad was deciding whether or not he should detain him, but a man of such high political importance would probably not stand for being treated like a common criminal.

“Mr. Colbert. I could say the same to you.” The Ambassador seemed to be daring Brad to do something. For a tense moment, neither spoke. Then Brad decided the best thing to do was to let him go. The assassin would surely not try again tonight anyway.

“Have a good night, Mr. Ambassador,” Brad said as he watched the Ambassador head back to his chambers. 

Brad did not believe in coincidences. He would have to stay as frosty as London had been last winter and keep track of the Ambassador. But for now, there was nothing to do but attempt to sleep. No use dwelling on what he couldn't change - mainly, the past. But whoever this gunmen was, he now knew that Brad was coming for him. Chances are he wouldn't be sleeping well either. 

TBC


	2. Acta non verba

**Acta non verba**   
_deeds not words_

In the morning, Nate woke to the smell of cooked eggs and a man shouting. He sat up and pulled his jerkin on over his undershirt before heading to the kitchen to great Lady Alice. Eggs, blocks of cheese, and loaves of bread were spread on the table.

“Good morning, Sir Nathaniel. We have only modest means after Sir Thomas resigned, but please help yourself to what we have,” she said from her place at the stove.

Nate thanked her and grabbed a piece of bread before he went outside to investigate. A buff and bearded mercenary was dragging a man in shackles to Sir Thomas’ cell. The man was bleeding from his forehead and lip, and he was dressed only in a long white undershirt. His thick beard and the blood that was dried on his face made it hard to tell who he was. Sir Thomas was soon standing at Nate’s side.

“He has been charged with heresy for making English copies of the Bible. He was caught red handed at a protestant meeting, passing out pamphlets. We searched his house; he had English copies of many books including The Bible.” Sir Thomas’ voice was stern. Clearly he had already made up his mind about this man’s guilt. 

“Will he go to trial?” Nate asked.

“His trial will be here. He will be taken to be burned if he does not repent.” Nate could feel Sir Thomas watching him, waiting for him to comment. Nate just nodded, not sure what to say. He had always felt that each man deserved to plead his case in front of a Court. 

“You can talk to him yourself, if you would like.” Sir Thomas walked back inside and Nate decided to take him up on the offer.

The barn reeked of animal waste and straw. The prisoner lay on the ground, in the small spot of sunlight that reached his cell. 

“Excuse me, Sir?” Nate pulled up a stool. The prisoner rolled over to sit up, and the sunlight illuminated his face. He had bright brown eyes and thick eyebrows. His curly hair framed his face. He had wiped the blood from his brow, so dirt now smeared his forehead. Nate sucked in a breath. Even with the dirt, Nate recognized him from numerous drawings he had seen. People had often talked about him at his Church. 

“Master Webster?” Nate inquired. 

“You recognize me, but forgive me I do not recognize you.” Webster breathed out slowly, taking in Nate’s appearance. 

“You wouldn’t. You were cursed at my church. You used to write about so many things, not just religion. I only know you because I’ve read some of your stories. I loved your fiction. And your critiques of war were so poignant, especially for a Knight,” Nate said in a huff, still surprised that Master Webster was in such a state as this.

“Ah, yes. Then you are a knight. And a Catholic. How rare that someone like you would find comfort in my words.” Webster folded his legs under himself and stretched out his hand between the bars to shake Nate’s.

“I’m Sir Nathaniel. It’s so nice to meet you, Master Webster, although I wish it was under other circumstances. What happened?” 

“You can’t translate Bibles into English without consequences, I’m afraid.”

“But you’ve contributed so many other great literary works! I will speak up on your behalf, I’m sure Sir Thomas will understand.”

“Your young heart will serve you well in other matters, but I’m afraid in this you are wrong. There is no sympathy for heretics.” Webster looked resigned to his fate, and it made Nate sad to see such a skilled writer look so defeated. 

“Well, is there anyone you would like me to send word to?” Nate asked, searching for some way to help. 

“I do not have many friends, I’m afraid. Perhaps it is better if they don’t find out what has become of me. I was supposed to set sail yesterday on a voyage to Spain. I had planned on looking for Sharks and cataloguing my discoveries.” 

“Very well, Master Webster.” Nate took his leave and without hesitation walked brusquely to Sir Thomas’ study. Nate wasted no time in getting to the point. 

“Sir Thomas, I must confess that I know Master Webster. He is a good man and a talented writer. I think-”

Sir Thomas stood from his chair and cut Nate off.

“Sir Nathaniel, he has already confessed. He will be burned at Smithfield tomorrow.” 

“But, Sir-” Nate began again, unafraid to stand up to Sir Thomas because he thought truth was on his side. 

“Your job here is just to observe. You do not make decisions because you have no authority to do so. The Catholic Church has given me this most sacred duty and so I must carry it out.”   
Sir Thomas’ voice left no room for further argument. Nate knew when he had been beaten. He tried his best not to look furious as he bowed and walked back to his room.

He turned the issue over and over again in his mind, but he saw no way out. He could not break Master Webster out because everyone would surely know it was him and the punishment for both of them as a result would be much worse than burning. Nate refused to believe that Master Webster deserved his fate. 

Then Nate remembered who had sent him here in the first place. Surely Mr. Cromwell would have known that Master Webster was to be captured. Mr. Cromwell could well have dug up the fact that Nate often read Master Webster’s work at Court. Or he had talked to Cardinal Wolsey about Nate back when he was knighted. All of this smelled like a much too elaborate conspiracy against such a young knight, but somehow Nate did not think Cromwell was above that level of manipulation. Maybe Nate was just another pawn in Sir Thomas and Cromwell’s struggle for power.

Strains of happy music interrupted Brad’s train of thought as he walked closer to the great hall. He had been following the Spanish Ambassador with no usable intelligence to show for it. The man liked chocolate. And he liked women. He had left to go see Lady Mary, King Henry’s only daughter. The music meant that The King was throwing another party. Brad hesitated, knowing that attending parties wasn’t exactly in his job description. Nate was still gone, so there was no one for him to check in with. That also meant there was no one for him to talk too. Besides, it was only right that he indulge in some of the luxuries afforded to all those at Court. The Ladies in Waiting were in good spirits, and that meant Brad might find something to take the edge off of his unsuccessful encounter the other night. 

His boots clacked on the floor when he entered, and several heads looked up at him. He was easily the tallest man in the room. He made his way around the dance floor to lean against the wall and survey the room, his hand resting against the hilt of his sword. 

As he looked around, the brunette lady in waiting who had talked to him the night he first arrived caught his eye. She offered him an easy smile, and that prompted Brad to let his gaze linger on her. Brad didn’t smile back, but Lady Margaret might be just the kind of distraction he had been looking for. 

“Mr. Colbert, it is so nice to see you again,” Lady Margaret said as she walked up next to Brad and handed him a cup of wine.

“That it is. I hear you are close to Lady Anne?” He asked, thankfully taking the cup. It seemed that the wine never stopped flowing at Court.

“I am, indeed. She grew up near me and my brother, the Court poet.” She smiled deviously over the rim of her cup, and Brad recognized a certain hunger in her eyes. This seemed like an opportunity Brad would be wise not to pass up. Brad leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

“Would you happen to know of any enemies of Lady Anne and The King in Court?” 

Lady Margaret tipped her head slightly back to answer him. 

“Their enemies are many, I’m afraid. You would have an easier time making a list of friends.” 

Brad noticed how, at the corner of her green eyes, her skin crinkled when she smiled. He noticed how tightly her bodice was wrapped around her body and how her breasts moved with each breath she took. But then his eyes settled on her mouth and her pale pink lips that stretched as she talked.

Lady Margaret noticed and took his wine cup from him to place it on a table. “Mr. Colbert, would you care to take this discussion to a more secluded location?” 

Brad nodded in agreement. He appreciated a woman who could be on the same page as him so quickly. 

Brad vaguely wondered what Nate was doing as he was led through a hallway and into a dimly lit room. _Surely not this_ , he thought. Nate looked like too virtuous a Knight to bed a Lady for no other reason than for the simple pleasure of doing so. 

Brad’s eyes returned to Lady Margaret’s lips even as she was untying her bodice. Brad stopped her with his hands as he brought his lips to hers. He licked at her bottom lip and she opened her mouth for him. He licked along her top lip before she plunged her tongue into his mouth. They wasted no time and Brad was grateful for that.

She reached down to untie the laces holding his hose up. She felt along Brad’s codpiece and Brad felt her smile against his mouth. He reached under her petticoat to grip her thigh. She pushed forward and Brad brought his hand to her hip. Brad sucked at her tongue and she moaned softly. She moved her hands to his ass and pulled him closer to her.

Brad pulled back to gaze at her, breathing heavily. Brad could see how this would play out, from start to finish. He saw himself playing with her clit as she moaned, her reckless abandon as he fucked her hard and fast, her accomplished smile after he came. He saw all of it and it bored him. Then an idea dawned on him. A way to make this much more interesting. 

“So tell me, Lady Margaret,” Brad began as he moved his fingers up Lady Margaret’s thigh. She looked at him and sucked on her bottom lip. That reminded Brad of Lady Rose, and Brad pushed his thumb against her clit to change her expression. He had been with other women after her Rose, but sometimes there were still certain moments that would bring back memories. Brad hated himself for that. 

“Yes?” She whispered, thrusting her hips as Brad started to make small, fast circles.

“Has the Spanish Ambassador been around the Lady Anne more than usual lately?” Brad asked while slowing down his fingers to move them farther down. 

An angry groan escaped Lady Margaret after Brad’s question and Brad smiled deviously.

“I would rather not talk about the Ambassador right now,” She said before she bit Brad’s lower lip. Brad stilled his hand. Lady Margaret narrowed her eyes but Brad knew she was too far gone to protest vehemently. He waited it out as she watched his face.

“Yes. Yes he has been. I’ve seen him walking through the Lady’s chambers on different occasions as if studying the buildings,” She huffed out, eager for Brad to continue. He smiled against her mouth as they began to kiss again. She put her hand under his Jerkin to roll his nipples under her thumb. Brad hissed and Lady Margaret bit at Brad’s throat. Brad plunged two fingers inside her and Lady Margaret moaned in appreciation. Brad held her hip steady with his left hand as he thrust in and out of her, fucking her. She buried her face in his neck when she screamed, and Brad rubbed at her clit with his thumb. She came with a laugh, and her voice rang in Brad’s ears. A sense of accomplishment washed over him. He could make someone else feel that good. 

“Would you like to-,” She whispered as Brad pulled his fingers out of her and wiped them on the inside of her petticoat.

“We wouldn’t want you to get pregnant,” Brad said simply. She searched his face but Brad offered no other answers. He didn’t think “I’m all good here” would sound very chivalrous. Her eyes darted away, seemingly ashamed for a moment. Brad almost felt guilty of depriving her of the sense of accomplishment he had felt just a moment ago, but that didn’t make him change his mind.

“Well, if you ever feel like playing our little game again, I trust you will find me,” she said, disengaging herself from him. 

As she walked away, it dawned on Brad that he had given up on women. Or on sex. There was no feeling in it, just doing. But at least he hadn’t wasted a perfectly good party. Or an opportunity to gather intel.

That evening, Nate arrived back at Court still angry but without a clue as to how to help Webster. He requested an audience with Cromwell and paced outside his office. Mike happened to walk by carrying a huge basket full of fruit and did a double take when he saw Nate.

“Back early?” Mike asked. 

“Ya, well. Things happened.” Nate kept it vague, not wanting to make Mike an accomplice in whatever trouble he was about to get himself into. 

“If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

Nate nodded, appreciative of Mike’s support.

“What’s with the fruit?” Nate changed the subject.

“They’re from the new world. The King is leaving for France and he wants to take them with him. I’ve got to go help him pack the remainder of his things.” Mike patted Nate’s shoulder before heading off. 

Nate was back to waiting alone. He tried not to chew his bottom lip but was unsuccessful. 

Finally, he was admitted inside. Nate made sure the door was shut before he started with his questions.

“Did you do that on purpose? You knew Master Webster would be sent there and that I would find sympathy for him, didn’t you?” 

Cromwell did not seem surprised as he continued to shuffle through the papers on his desk.

“Did you find sympathy for him?” Cromwell asked.

“I severely detest the lack of justice I saw there. But now I like neither you nor Sir Thomas.” Nate stood with his shoulders squared and his hand on his sword. He was now unsure of the direction this conversation was taking.

For his part, Cromwell was unperturbed. He put down his papers and looked Nate in the eye.

“I do not need for you to like me. But there are two sides to every story. Now that you have seen this, I may call on your services in the future.” Cromwell said this final statement like a dismissal, but Nate was not ready to leave.

“Cromwell, if you need me I cannot say that I will answer your call. But if you hear of another like Master Webster that I can be of service to, I beseech you to tell me.” Nate took his leave after he saw Cromwell nod. 

Back out in the corridor, Nate chewed on his lip as he thought about what Cromwell had said. What “services” could he be referring to? Clearly there was nothing he could do at the moment short of riding back to More’s estate and forfeiting his entire career. Nate wasn’t going to be able to get through the night without reading or writing _something_ about his experience, because his mind was racing. He would probably have to submit a debrief anyway. He was so intent on getting back to his chamber he almost didn’t notice the man suddenly blocking his path.

“You seem to be back early.” Brad’s clear blue eyes gazed at Nate under long lashes, and Nate nodded hello before continuing down the corridor. Brad hastened his pace to catch up.

“I had seen enough.” Nate slowed down when he looked at Brad and realized that Brad intended to talk to him. He considered just how much he should actually divulge to Brad, but luckily Brad saved him from having to be curt or lie to him. 

“I have something to tell you,” Brad said.

“Oh?” Nate asked, ushering Brad into his room. 

“I believe the Ambassador has hired an assassin. He is up all hours of the night and he has been casing the Lady Anne’s chambers. I almost caught the assassin himself but he evaded me.” Brad listed these facts like he was reading a grain inventory, but his eyes gave away his excitement. 

“Good work, Brad. What will you do now?” Brad laughed then, and Nate wasn’t sure why. Nate’s puzzlement seemed to make Brad laugh more. 

“No one calls me Brad. It sounds unprofessional and much less intimidating than iceman.” Brad said once he caught his breath.

“I believe the assassin is more important than discussing your nicknames,” Nate chastised him even as he grinned.

Nate must have been caught up in thinking about Cromwell. Or maybe he was distracted by Brad’s enthusiasm. But it had taken until now for Brad’s previous statement to register.

“Wait, the assassin evaded _you_?” Nate whispered harshly as he ushered Brad into his inner chambers and shut the door. No one else needed to hear their conversation. 

“This guy is a professional. He’s not fucking around. He is definitely hired muscle. And he has a gun.” Brad’s face was solemn as he avoided Nate’s gaze, like he was embarrassed. Nate knew that there was nothing more Brad could have done, but he avoided offending Brad’s pride by saying so. He waited for Brad to continue.

“I am going to have to talk to the Ambassador, once I get him alone. He has been avoiding me.” The conversation seemed to have winded down, but Nate wanted to enjoy Brad’s company for a little longer. Nate did not want to push aside his responsibilities or Webster, but a little distraction might help him clear his head. The only thing Brad would be keeping him from was his paperwork, which suddenly did not seem as important as it did five minutes ago.

“Did you have anything else you needed to accomplish today?” 

“I might case the palace again, but The King and Lady Anne are going to France today. So there is no reason for the assassin to be here tonight.” Just the answer Nate had been hoping for. 

“Care for a game of cards, _Brad_?” Nate mocked, but Brad didn’t mind the nickname as much the second time. 

Brad agreed, “On the condition that I not be sent to the Tower of London once I soundly beat you at your own game.”

“I assure you I don’t have the jurisdiction to lock you up.” Nate grabbed a deck of cards from his dresser and began to shuffle. 

If Brad noticed Nate’s previously preoccupied state of mind, he didn’t make mention of it. The ease with which the pair of them settled down like old friends surprised Nate. What surprised Nate even more was the way he enjoyed the smile that Brad wore almost the entire afternoon. Nate was sure that with the reputation and the good looks Brad was gifted with, Brad must have had his pick of company to keep at Court. And yet Brad did not leave until it was well past the appropriate time to be entertaining company in a Knight’s chamber. Nate even managed to push Webster and the reformation out of his mind until he bade Brad good night.

The week that The King and Lady Anne were scheduled to return from France, the rest of the Court that had stayed in England had their hose in a bunch. The King had sent a royal messenger ahead of their party to order the Court to prepare a jousting tournament. While everyone knew that King Henry loved and appreciated a good joust, rumors were spreading like wildfire that The King had married Lady Anne. 

The corridors were filled with men and ladies of the Court rushing around. Banners were unfurled and tied to poles, tables were carried outside and covered, and the jousting pit was scraped and adorned with ribbon. Brad was amused at all the pageantry, but when he saw Nate walking briskly towards him with a sweaty brow and pursed lips he wondered if maybe there was something he could do to help.

“Thanks for the offer, Brad. But we are almost ready for The King’s arrival.” Brad nodded and moved out of Nate’s path, knowing that Nate would surely want to return to work. Vaguely Brad wondered when it had become acceptable for Nate to call him Brad. The only other people that called him Brad were Walt and Ray, but he had known them forever. Maybe it was because last week he and Nate had gone on a day long hunting trip. Or maybe it was because the week previous he and Nate had gone to town to barter for new clothes. If Brad was being honest, the use of his nickname had probably become acceptable the very first time Nate had said it the afternoon they played cards. 

Nate looked up from the notebook he was carrying and Brad watched as Nate flicked his eyes over Brad’s thin green hose, his low slung belt, his sword, his fingers resting on the hilt, and the part of his neck exposed from the collar of his shirt. Brad shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell what Nate was thinking.

“Although maybe you feel daring enough to enter?” Nate asked with an edge to his voice. Brad tried to hide his smile at the seeming frivolity of Nate’s proposition. Mercenaries and Knights traditionally did not really get along, let alone compete in jousting matches together. Jousting was just showing off. After that thought crossed his mind, Brad became intrigued by the prospect of beating a Knight. Especially a worthy opponent, which Brad was sure Nate would be. 

“Will you be competing, Sir?” Brad cocked his eyebrow, hoping his intention was obvious enough.

“Yes. But you won’t be able to compete against Knights, mercenary.” 

Brad hid his disappointment behind a retort.

“Excellent. Then I won’t have to hurt you.” 

Nate’s eyes burned with competitive fire at Brad’s remark and Brad quite enjoyed it. Brad decided the tournament was still worth going to. Brad could not think of a time when he had changed his mind more times in such a small amount of time. 

“I will make sure to include your name on the list,” Nate called as he headed back to the jousting arena. 

Brad glanced at Nate’s ass as he walked away and mentally chastised himself. It wasn’t the first time he had realized he was gazing at Nate with more than friendly interest, but then again the Tudor Court couldn’t fault him too badly for his slight misconduct. After all, he had seen the way Lady Anne’s brother looked at the Court musician and Brad was not that far gone for the Knight. Nate was just pleasant and interesting and made Brad smile. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time Brad had forayed into other types of pleasure and if ever there was a place to find willing accomplices in those pleasurable pursuits, it would be The King’s Court. But of course Nate’s virtue as a Knight was probably very well guarded and Brad doubted Nate had ever even considered doing something that went against the rules of the Knights of the Garter. If Brad really wanted to know, he would have to do something to make Nate consider it, to consider _him_. 

Brad really needed to focus on work.

With all of the festivities sure to begin the moment The King arrived, the Ambassador was sure to be around. He needed to find him. There was no way the Ambassador would admit to his nefarious plot, but if Brad made it clear that he knew of his intentions, maybe that would make the Ambassador back off. Brad began his search of The Court, quadrant by quadrant. He diligently covered all of the corridors leading to the Great Hall and the courtyard. He walked past pages dressed in red moving furniture. He walked past the royal butchers who were preparing hogs for supper. He saw the Ladies who had been left at Court finishing their needlework projects. He was reminded of Lady Margaret and wondered if she had enjoyed France. For some reason, he was sure she had. 

Brad had been to France once, to study with a well-known literary scholar. Few knew this about him, because as a mercenary he saw no benefit to touting his book learning. France held endless amounts of amusement and entertainment, but Brad would never trade that for the business of being a soldier. He trained and he completed missions; and those tasks gave his life purpose. He knew that Lady Margaret felt that same sense of purpose serving Lady Anne. Brad’s train of thought led him to wondering if Nate felt he had a purpose. 

Brad heard someone talking, and immediately tucked himself behind a corner in the shadows. As the noise moved closer, he could hear two people. One was giggling and the other was telling her she looked beautiful in her dress. The voices suddenly stopped, and Brad peeked around the corner. Only a small amount of light penetrated the hallway as dusk had set in and Brad could not discern who the people where; he could only make out silhouettes. Two bodies were intertwined and wondering hands were groping the Lady’s ass. The Lady had her leg wrapped around the man’s, and the man pushed his hand up under her dress. Brad decided he had not paid for this show and was therefore not entitled to watch, so he slowly crept back out the way he had come. He was smiling at the depravity of The Court as he walked to the stables. It was unlikely that the Ambassador was there, but he had to tell Trombley to prepare his horse for the joust. After he stopped at the stable, he returned to the Great Hall. 

Everyone was a flurry of activity when he got there. Last minute decorations were added to the tables and servants were bringing food from the kitchen. He stopped a page before he scurried off.

“What has befallen the Court?” 

“Haven’t you heard? The King has returned! The joust is on!” 

Brad remembered the couple he had seen in the corridor; the identity of the pair was no longer a mystery. The honeymoon phase had begun. It would take a while for The King to be prepared for the joust, no doubt. Brad began to search again for the Ambassador.

“The Knight makes his challenge!” The jousting official, an older Knight, called from his chair above the jousting field. The two competitors nodded up at him. 

At one end of the jousting field, a man pulled down his helmet. His thick metal armor clanked as his horse danced around, ready to run. At the opposite end of the field, a dapple grey stallion tossed his main and snorted. His rider pointed his lance straight ahead. A boy dressed in the red uniform of the Court stood in the middle of the jousting field and raised a flag.

The crowd that had gathered on the bleachers adjacent to the field collectively held their breath, and all was quiet.

Then the boy dropped the flag. 

Both horses lunged forward, dirt flying up behind them. Both men held their lances straight ahead and the crowd began to cheer. They crashed together, and one man’s lance splintered into pieces when it hit the other man’s shield. He clattered to the ground and his horse kept galloping away. The victor raised his arms and the stands cheered louder. A page ran out on the field to collect the fallen rider.

Nate stood off to the side with his horse so that he could see the field. He looked over his mare appreciatively. Her main was covered with a shiny new blue hood covering and blue ribbons adorned the top of the hood for decoration. The Order’s symbol was bright on the blanket that covered almost her entire body. Although he couldn’t be proud of everything the Order did, he respected the lengthy history and tradition that was an essential part of the Order. He held her bridle as the next two competitors made their way onto the field. 

One of the men had bright blond hair and stood almost a head above his competitor. As he rode closer, Nate knew it was Brad. Brad’s stallion side-stepped and flung up dirt, and Brad’s page scrambled to get out of the way. Brad came close enough to flash Nate a smile, and the sun illuminated his face. Brad sat tall and straight, and he wore worn but well cared for armor. He seemed at home on his horse. Brad’s face was relaxed even as his shoulders were squared and his arms were stiff, and he projected both comfort and confidence. It would have been an intimidating sight for even a seasoned jouster. 

Nate thought he looked rather magnanimous. He silently wished Brad's competitor good luck because he knew that man was going to need it.

It was traditional for the competitors to give their favor to a lady or two before the joust. The other man, dressed in shiny black armor, put on his helmet but kept the visor up. He rode his light brown horse up to the bleachers and pointed his lance at one of the ladies of the Court. It might have been Lady Mag, but Nate stopped watching when he noticed Brad riding up to him. 

“Sir,” Brad nodded at Nate. Nate couldn’t read Brad’s expression.

“Mercenary,” Nate nodded back. Brad stuck his lance out towards Nate.

Nate looked from the tip of the lance and back to Brad’s face. He hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he felt.

“Humor me. No one is looking. They are too busy watching Sir Show-off on the jousting field.” Brad nodded to his competitor, then turned his attention back to Nate.

“As if the whole lance-pointing thing wasn’t sexual enough,” Nate scoffed to break the tension that was suddenly building a thick wall between them.

There was silence for a heartbeat and Nate almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of Brad’s request, but if Brad was joking he didn’t show it. Nate’s cheeks started to heat up, and he figured the only way to get out of this was to acquiesce or make a hasty retreat. And Nate wasn’t fond of retreating. He pulled a blue ribbon from his mare’s hood and tied it onto Brad’s lance. Brad kicked his horse and the pair of them whirled away from Nate to trot out onto the jousting field. 

“The mercenary makes his challenge!” The jousting official shouted from his chair. The man in black stood ready, and his horse pawed the air. Brad looked calm at the other end of the field as he snapped his visor closed. Nate’s palms suddenly felt sweaty. He hoped that by giving a man his favor, Brad hadn’t earned some kind of terrible curse. He reminded himself that he didn’t really believe in superstition before the flag was waved and the two riders were off.

Nate’s eyes were wide as he enjoyed the spectacle before him. Brad was obviously the superior rider and his horse picked up speed just before Brad’s lance met the other man’s shield. A loud crash signaled the moment of contact. The black armored man’s lance hit Brad’s shield moments after, but his momentum had already been thrown off by Brad’s direct hit. The other man’s lance fractured and pieces flew into the bleachers. Ladies screamed and ducked, and Brad galloped away amidst a loud chorus of cheers. Nate clapped from where he stood, mildly impressed. He wasn’t about to tell Brad that, though. He felt his gut churning as he thought of Brad, hoping that his performance wouldn't disappoint Brad.

Nate put his foot in his stirrup and mounted, knowing that he was next. He patted his mare before he directed her towards the field. It was customary for him to parade in front of the bleachers as a knight, to show off the symbol of the Order and pick the ladies who would receive his favor. He nodded at Stafford and Christenson when he noticed them in the stands and he saw Mike waiting for him at the edge of the field. Brad clearly had left the field to tend to his horse, and Nate hid his disappointment. 

“Keep your eye on your competitor, Sir,” Mike cautioned when he handed Nate his lance. 

Nate shook himself and was all business again. Leave it to Mike to get the task at hand back into focus for him. At the other end of the field, Nate saw his competitor close his visor. Nate inhaled deeply and then did the same. He stepped onto the edge of the field, and he could feel the way his mare settled down underneath him. She was just as tense as he was. All Nate could see was the flag. Then it dropped and he leaned forward. His mare took off with barely any encouragement. 

Through the slit in his helmet, all Nate could see was his competitor’s lance growing larger as it came closer. Nate kept his arm steady as his hips rocked to the rhythm of his horse’s gallop. He tipped his lance slightly to the left just before his competitor’s lance reached him. It was over in an instant, but it took great effort for Nate to hold his arm at his side as his competitor’s lance scraped his shield. He was pitched to the right and then jerked backward as his horse continued galloping. Nate thought of nothing at that point except holding on and he squeezed his thighs together to keep himself from flying off. 

The adrenaline rush afterwards never got old, and Nate relished it. His mare slowed and Nate rode up next to Mike to hand off his lance. He looked back and saw that his competitor’s lance had broken but he hadn’t been unhorsed. Nate pulled off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

Nate appreciated the pure pleasure of the sport. Although it was dangerous, it was he who was talking the risk and he alone who would deal with the consequences. It was a war game, but most importantly it was a _game_. He did not have to feel the fear of leading men into battle, not knowing how he would be able to direct their destinies. He did not have to feel guilt due to the unexplained and pointless orders of his superiors, nor did he have to clean up the mess of insolent soldiers. He did not have to choose some lives over others. For that reason alone, he decided it was okay to revel a little in the cheers of the crowd. He scanned the sea of faces for Brad and noticed him riding up onto the field on his horse. It looked like Brad would be competing again. If Nate was a betting man, he could have easily chosen the winner.

After Brad’s second victory, he headed back to the stable feeling confident. Nate hadn’t rejected him and on top of that, he had won. He reveled in the adrenaline high that he normally only got from using his longbow on the battlefield or engaging in close combat. Mercenaries always told each other that killing was easy because no one wanted to appear weak, but Brad preferred not to talk about his deadly encounters. Brad just did what he needed to do to complete the mission. Losing himself in the moment was a common side effect of battle, but the sport of jousting afforded few other similarities to war itself. He was not working in a team, he did not have others he could rely on or tell what to do, and he did not have to answer to any boss or superior. Jousting was a whole new set of logistics. When he competed against a skilled jouster Brad nearly felt guilt free. That last competitor had been a much more serious rider than the first, but Brad was able to catch him slightly off guard. He dismounted as Ray and Walt came over to congratulate him. 

“Nice job nearly killing that poor, small, inferior jouster.” Ray slapped Brad on the soldier and Brad rolled his eyes. 

“Nice of you boys to show up.” Brad deadpanned as he handed his reins to Trombley.

“We couldn’t miss the biggest party of the year,” Walt said, reaching out to pet Brad’s stallion.

“Trombley, why the long face?” Ray poked Trombley, who looked sullen and withdrawn.

“Look at all those bloody dogs hanging around the field waiting for scraps. We should get rid of ‘em,” Trombley growled. 

“You will not be shooting any dogs, Trombley.” Brad started to pull off his armor, and Ray helped him lift the chest piece from over his head.

“I could get my bow and-” Trombley was still grumbling.

“No.” 

Ray was laughing under his breath and Trombley started to walk away with Brad’s stallion.

“So, can we enjoy the free food now?” Ray was giddy beside him, and Brad suddenly felt like he was back on another mission with Ray and Walt by his side. Their presence made Brad aware of just how long he had been at Court. This mission had gone on too long already. Brad needed to figure out a way to make the Ambassador get rid of his assassin. 

A royal page rode up and waved to get Brad’s attention. Out of the corner of his eye, Brad saw Nate riding towards him. The page reached Brad just before Nate did, but Nate was close enough to hear what the page said.

“The King is willing to accept a challenge from you, Mr. Colbert, as you are one of the few who has unseated two competitors. Do you wish to issue a challenge?” The page waited expectantly, and Brad looked from him to Nate.

Nate was shaking his head and his piercing blue eyes were unyielding. Brad realized that Nate was telling him to decline. Challenging The King usually meant accepting injury, because if you didn’t let The King win he would be furious. If you let him win, you would most likely be hit by the lance and unseated. Normally, Brad would not stand down from an opportunity to knock The King down a peg, but he knew the risk he ran by trying to beat The King. If The King were injured, he would surely be in serious trouble. He wasn’t exempt from torture or beatings – he wasn’t even a knight. Although he he was in a no-win situation, the choice normally would have been easy for him; except for the way Nate was looking at him, pleading him to say no. He knew what he had to do. He gritted his teeth and bit the bullet.

“No, I will not challenge him. My horse must rest.” Brad looked at Nate when he said it.

“Very well, Sir.” The page rode away, and Brad’s eyes flashed with anger. His pride was severely wounded because for some reason, he had let Nate exert superiority over him. He had gone against his instinct but once he looked at Nate he hadn’t hesitated. He didn’t like the way it made him feel; like he was dependent on someone else, on Nate. He turned around to head to the stable. He didn’t have anything else to say.

“Brad, no one gets lucky three times in a row,” Nate called to him.

“That wasn’t luck,” Brad said without looking back. 

Ray and Walt hurried after Brad, and Ray whistled.

“Someone is whipped,” Ray teased. 

“Fuck off, Ray. I have work to do.” Brad was going to find the Ambassador and get the hell out of Court, whatever it took.

“We came all the way out here to see you and that is no way to treat your Ray-Ray.” Ray stuck out his bottom lip in an imitation pout, but Brad had already stopped paying attention. What Ray had said was true. They _had_ come all the way to Court.

“Well then, maybe you should help.” 

“I like the sound of that.” Walt smiled as the three of them leaned together to form a plan. Brad figured three expert soldiers were better than one. Surely the Ambassador would not be able to evade him now. 

Brad let Ray take the lead- 

Ray made sure to say, “Aw Brad, you really do love me!” 

-and the boys headed off. Nate was the farthest thing from Brad’s mind, if Brad was lying to himself. 

Walt and Brad trailed behind Ray as he silently edged along in the long shadows surrounding the north side of the palace to get to the garden. Brad’s body was tense, his ears were pricked for any and all noises, and he eventually could focus all of his thoughts on just his surroundings. 

The three of them split off to walk through different parts of the garden. The tall shrubs could conceal anyone, and the grass could hide the sound of footsteps. If Brad was going to hide, this is where he would do it. They searched for nearly half an hour, and Brad was getting worried. If it got dark, his chances of finding the Ambassador would diminish tremendously. Then somewhere near Brad’s left he heard Ray.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you-” Ray abruptly stopped talking as the sound of someone crashing through the shrubs became obvious. Walt ran up from behind until he was next to Brad, but Brad didn’t move. The Spanish Ambassador, in a long glittering green robe, was walking very briskly away from where Ray had tried to stop him. And right towards Brad. He had nowhere to go. 

“Mr. Ambassador.” Brad stopped him with a raised hand. Walt stood beside him, quiet. 

“Mr. Colbert.” The Ambassador nodded and made to go past him, but Brad grabbed his arm in a vice grip. 

“I’m sure you know what I’m about to say. Don’t make The King angry. There are dire consequences for such actions.” Brad’s voice was as hard as ice but his eyes were like fire. He wasn’t angry at what the Ambassador had done, after all this was just a mission; Brad was still just angry. This was one case where Brad could and would use his emotions to his advantage.

“Are you threatening me?” The Spanish Ambassador asked, watching Brad’s face very closely. 

“It isn’t me you have to worry about.” Brad let go of the Spanish Ambassador’s arm, and he nodded at him before turning on his heel and walking away.

“He didn’t back down. That man has some cajones, if you know what I mean,” Ray said as he emerged from the shadows. 

“Or he’s just reckless,” Walt commented.

Brad suspected it was a little bit of both. Which meant this wasn’t over.

“Now presenting, His Majesty King Henry VIII and Queen Anne!” The royal crier and the royal trumpeter were heralding The King and Queen’s arrival as they made their way down the streets of London. Lady Anne had just been crowned King, and Nate was on high alert. 

Well, Nate was on high alert because he knew Brad was. They had parted ways when the royal procession had started. After Brad’s encounter with the Spanish Ambassador, Brad had been up at all hours of the night trying to find the assassin. He hadn’t made an appearance. Brad had told Nate in a brusque all business-tone at the beginning of the parade that the assassin had probably waited until today to make his move. Nate thought his logic was sound. Since the parade was going to move at a snail’s pace, Brad would be on foot searching for the man. 

Since the jousting tournament, Brad had only talked business with Nate. Nate had turned the incident over and over in his mind, but he knew he had done the right thing. Brad need not suffer consequences not deserved. He idly wondered if consequences mattered all that much to Brad. He was sure that they did, but not in the way they did to Nate. Brad did what he had to do and accepted the consequences afterwards. Nate always had to plan ahead for all possible consequences. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been as bold in his affections with Brad as Brad had been with him. Maybe he should take a page from Brad’s book in that regard. 

This coronation was going to be a much more nerve racking experience than a coronation should be. If Nate was working with Brad, scanning the crowds and trying to track down the killer, he would not feel this way. He felt nervous because he could do nothing to help. He had a different kind of job to do, but he gladly would have traded places with Brad if only to make sure Brad was safe. Or maybe it was the fact that they were in a fight that really made Nate feel uneasy about this whole thing.

Nate’s duty as a member of the Order and as a trusted aid to The King was to hold the flag of the Tudor family crest while he rode his horse in the front of the royal carriage. Mike was on his right and kept glancing at him, knowing something was amiss. Nate tried to focus on the road ahead of them. “Make way for The King and Queen!” someone shouted. A band of trumpeters were on a stage up ahead, heralding The King and Queen’s arrival. Nate could make out Stafford and Christeson walking among the male members of the Court. In front of the procession, London-ers parted ways to stand on the sides of the parade route. 

The distinct lack of excitement on behalf of the gathered crowd was underwhelming. Nate would have expected much more fanfare, but clearly Anne’s supporters were feeling subdued. They could have been keeping quiet for fear of derision from their peers. Or there simply weren’t that many of them. 

Looking over his shoulder, Nate could see The King and Queen sitting very calmly on their thrones. The Queen waved her hand slightly and smiled upon her subjects. The King’s mouth was stretched in a thin line; he was surveying the small crowd and he was not impressed. The father of the new Queen and her brother, George Boleyn, were riding alongside the carriage. The Duke of Suffolk suddenly slowed his horse to let Mike and Nate and then the carriage pass him. Nate stayed focused on the road straight ahead, but The Duke of Suffolk was the High Steward of the coronation. He must have received a signal from Brad. Something caught Nate’s eye in a window to his right and he glanced up. Light glinted off metal for a moment before it disappeared. 

Nate’s fingers tightened on his reins and he glanced at Mike. He nodded, signaling that he had seen it too. Nate tried to locate The Duke of Suffolk but couldn’t see him. He must have fallen back from the procession. Nate tried to keep his hands from shaking as his mind raced with all of the things that could have gone wrong. He would just have to assume the best. 

When the procession arrived at Westminster Church, horses were handed off to pages and everyone filed into the Church. Nate scanned the crowds for Brad. He finally spotted The Duke of Suffolk, whose piercing blue eyes were scanning the crowd as well. He did not look alarmed, so Nate took that as a good sign. He finally went inside when the last of the procession had taken their seats so that he could stand in the back. 

The Duke of Suffolk and the family of the Queen had dawned the thick red robes of the Court and the Queen sat on her throne looking serene. Nate thought she looked beautiful, but it was The King that beamed with a pride that lit up the Church. The ladies of the Court had recently let the secret out of the bag and everyone knew the Queen was pregnant with King Henry’s child. The Queen’s family looked smug and The Duke of Suffolk looked uncomfortable and the contrast might have amused Nate had he not been on alert for Brad. 

As the Bishop was reading hymns, a shadow moved to Nate’s left. He edged over, slowly, and the dim light in the Church illuminated Brad’s silhouette.

“Brad,” Nate hissed. Brad glanced at him but otherwise did not react. Nate noticed the crimson blood smeared on the side of Brad’s blue jerkin. 

“Fuck, Brad, are you hurt?” Nate moved forward to touch Brad, but Brad held out his hand.

“It’s not mine,” he said shortly.

“Well-” Nate moved forward again. 

“Shhh. Respect the new Queen.” Only Brad could whisper with such sarcasm, but he turned his attention to the front and Nate reluctantly did the same.

The King took the crown from the Bishop and crowned his Queen himself. The crowd gasped ever so faintly, and Nate could not blame them. It was an arrogant gesture of supremacy on behalf of The King, since the King and Queen’s power was supposed to be derived from God. But King Henry had just made clear that he was the supreme power in England and while making that point he had implicated his new Queen as an accomplice to the new order. 

After the crown was atop the Queen’s head, Brad slipped out of the church and Nate followed. Once they entered a dark hallway quite far away from the main room, Nate grabbed Brad’s arm and forced him to turn around. 

“I completed the mission. I will probably be relieved of duty today.” Brad was obviously trying to keep his voice neutral. 

“I did what I had to do, you know.” Nate was toe to toe with Brad. He hoped he looked fearless in that moment. Ever since the joust it was like Nate could never catch his breath around Brad. But here, now, he was at least certain how this should confrontation was supposed to end. Put a Knight and a mercenary together with tension so thick you could cut it with a dagger and someone was bound to get beat up.

“I know,” Brad nodded. Nate wasn’t sure if that counted as a sign of forgiveness, but at least it didn’t look like Brad was going to fight him anymore. Nate was drawn once again to the blood on Brad’s jerkin, and suddenly Nate realized he probably just killed a man. This was entirely too petty of a conversation to be having after what Brad just did. 

Brad came impossibly too close and Nate felt Brad’s hot breath on his face. Later, he would blame Brad's earnest expression for what came out of his mouth next.

“You know, if you were a lady this is when I would say that I want to court you.” Nate regretted it when he said it. At least he trusted Brad enough to have faith that he wouldn't report him to Cromwell. Well, Cromwell might let it slide considering how he had said he needed Nate.

Brad rolled his eyes and pushed Nate, but Nate stood his ground. 

“I’m not a Lady, Sir.” Brad tried to break the spell they had been enveloped in. This was the moment of truth and since Nate put it out there, he needed to know.

Finally Brad’s face relaxed and he smiled. Trombley chose that moment to come upon them in the hallway.

“Did you get ‘em, Sir?” Trombley was ecstatic when he saw the blood on Brad’s jerkin. He didn't wait for Brad to answer.

“Just in time for the coronation festivities!” Trombley took Brad’s longbow and arrows and headed for Brad’s quarters. Brad glanced over at Nate with a raised eyebrow and Nate nodded because he understood. They would see each other again after Brad got cleaned up. That wasn't good enough, but Nate would have to be patient. Something he was familiar with, working for The King. 

TBC


	3. Ad libitum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate asks Brad to complete one more mission with him before he is dismissed from Court.

**Ad libitum**  
 _towards pleasure_

Walking along the pond outside the palace, Nate tried not to think about the future. The future where Brad left Court and Nate was set up with a Lady and everything would return to normal. Not being able to figure out what it was he wanted from Brad? That was something Nate was not used to. 

Cromwell slunk out from the shadows to accost Nate and he vaguely wondered how long he had been there watching. 

“Sir Nathaniel. I have a proposition for you.” He wasn’t going to waste any time, clearly.

“Are you coming to make good on my promise?” Nate asked, suddenly focused. He had not expected to hear from Cromwell after the coronation, because most believed that the newly crowned Queen Anne would have the power to stop the prosecution of the Protestants.

“Indeed. There is a writer currently meeting with other dissenters and their meeting is in danger of being disrupted most forcefully.” Cromwell folded his hands together and started walking. Nate followed.

“Even though the Lady Anne has been crowned?” Nate’s mind ran through a hundred possibilities because maybe these men were in danger for other reasons. Maybe this was not a religious or political matter but a personal one.

“Yes. The Catholic Church still operates here under the direction of the Pope. The King is crafting legislation to change that, but unfortunately they are carrying on with their work. I thought of you in particular for this mission because of your knowledge of Master Webster.” 

Ah, so it was personal. At least Cromwell assumed it would be for Nate.

“What is the mission?” 

Cromwell scanned the pond and the surrounding greenery, but no one was in sight. He continued walking into the shrub maze and waited to speak until he and Nate had rounded a few corners. The secrecy made Nate’s skin itch.

“There are many unhappy about the coronation. So unhappy they wish to take Queen Anne’s supporters down. Others are capitalizing on this sentiment to eliminate Protestants and proponents of a free thinking philosophy.” 

“Who is it that I am to rescue?” Nate pushed, not impressed by Cromwell’s current events lesson. Not all Catholics were trying to destroy Protestants, and Cromwell’s blanket statements were setting him on edge even more than he already was.

“Webster’s friends – a man named Liebgott and a fellow writer by the name of Leckie.” Nate did not recognize the names, but he felt it was the least he could do to protect Master Webster’s friends. He would double check Cromwell’s intel before he left Court to verify their affiliation with Webster.

“Where are they?” 

“I will take that question as your acceptance of the mission. There will be a boat with two French flags on it tomorrow night at the dock. Signal it with two lantern flashes and they will signal back with one. The code word is Austria. You are to hide them away until then. I will tell The King you are on errand for me, if he asks.” Cromwell slipped Nate a piece of paper. Nate took it and Cromwell started to walk away. An idea struck Nate.

“I cannot do this alone. It will be easier with help.” 

“I advise you tell as few people as possible, Sir Nathaniel.” 

“Just one person, whom I am sure we can trust.”

“Very well. Who?”

“Bradley Colbert.”

“Ah, yes. I will delay his dismissal from Court. The King will be delighted to hear about his heroic efforts at the coronation.” Cromwell smirked slightly, and Nate chose not to read into that look. He glanced at the paper again, and when he looked up Cromwell was gone.

Nate hurried to inquire about the men he was to rescue. He had a few contacts that might give him more answers. Then we would tell Brad.

Brad did not let himself feel happy on a regular basis. That bullshit was for Dukes and Lawyers and free thinking freak shows. After Lady Rose, he had resigned himself to a life void of deep connection. He had gone to sleep after the coronation with his mind completely blank. Too much had happened for him to process everything at once. When he had woken up that morning, Brad felt hope. Hope looked a lot like happiness. Hope was dangerous.

Nate caught him off guard in the palace while he was on his way to morning prayers, a requirement of being a member of the Court. He looked strung out and the shadows under his eyes indicated that he had not slept. Brad started to worry that this was his fault. His heart started to close up again.

“Sir, what has-”

“Follow me.” Nate turned and led them into a dark and slimy room that was away from the Church, where everyone would surely be gathered.

“I have a mission to attend to under an urgent schedule. Top secret. Not even The King is going to be aware of it. Cromwell is going to cover our tracks. I could use your help.” 

Brad did not hesitate. If Nate was going to lead on, he would follow.

“Where do we need to go?” 

“Two men are meeting at a bar in London. They will be disrupted. We will keep them from being abducted and deliver them to their escape vessel at the rendezvous point.”

“I assume you have cleared the information and you will explain this mission to me later?” 

“Later being the key word, Brad.” They both knew he wasn’t just referring to explaining the mission.

They both exited the room cautiously. Brad kept his eyes and ears peeled for any onlookers, but they went to the stable unnoticed. They saddled their horses and headed out the front gate of the palace, nodding at the guards on the way out. Luckily the stable boys and pages were all at their own morning services and they had not needed to explain themselves. Brad figured Nate had timed it that way. Just outside the gates, they walked at first so Nate could explain more of the plan to Brad. Brad touched his hand to his longbow while Nate talked, glad he had cleaned it before going to sleep last night. 

Their legs bumped together amiably and Brad raised his eyebrow at Nate. Nate abruptly stopped talking.

“Is this part of the Order’s courting rituals?” Brad teased. Nate rolled his eyes and kicked his horse.

“No time for that now, Brad!” Nate hollered over his shoulder. He was right, of course. As Brad had just learned, Liebgott and Leckie were set to be ambushed in less than an hour’s time. From the sound of it, these two were honorable men if not dry intellectuals. Brad kicked his horse and thoroughly enjoyed having the palace at his back. It seemed like ages ago since Brad had felt the wind whip past his ears and relaxed into the rocking rhythm of his horse’s smooth gate. 

The pair of them slowed when they entered the main thoroughfare and London-ers scurried to get out of their way. Nate had made sure to dress in a nondescript grey jerkin, but he still collected curious glances because his sleeves gave away that he was of some sort of honorable rank. Brad knew they would only have a little bit of time before their enemies received word of their arrival.

The bar they were looking for was on the corner. A sign hung out in front that just said “ale”. Brad and Nate dismounted before they got to the bar and handed their horses off to the stable boy. Above the bar were rooms that visitors could rent out and the stable near for guests’ horses. Brad knew that neither he nor Nate knew what Liebgott and Leckie looked like, but Brad hoped the bar would be nearly empty seeing as it was still early on a working day. 

Brad avoided the rat that dodged Nate to run across the street and stepped through mud to push open the door of the bar. He took off his coat and held it in his arm as he scanned the cramped and dank interior. It reeked of ale and whiskey and Brad smiled. He felt more at home here than he had all those months at Court. He looked over at Nate, who was already striding towards a table with two men seated at it. 

They were bent together, one with brown curly locks that went past his ears and the other brunette with much shorter hair.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. But are you Liebgott and Leckie?” Nate asked in a low voice. Brad stood behind him, his arms crossed. The pair of them looked gaunt and pale, like they had been on the run for a while.

“Depends on who the hell is asking.” The one with the short hair spit out, his eyes narrowing at the pair of them. He started to rise out of his chair and the curly haired one reached forward to stop him. Brad stepped closer.

“A friend of Webster’s,” Nate said and the short haired threatening one relaxed his body language slightly. The curly haired one studied Brad with wide and sorrowful eyes and Brad wandered if he had ever looked that depressed.

“Liebgott. And that’s Leckie.” The threatening one stuck out his hand as he stood up and shook Nate’s. Brad decided he was still going to keep his eye on him. 

“Sir Nathaniel. And this is Bradley Colbert.” The four shook hands and Nate leaned forward to whisper in Leckie’s ear. Brad’s body tensed but he turned away to keep a vigilant watch on the near-empty bar. A barkeep was stacking mugs behind the bar, but he didn’t seem to notice or care about his guests. 

When Nate stopped talking, he tried to push the three of them towards the door. There was a back door but the front door was closer to them and Brad figured they probably would still have time to slip out unnoticed. There was also a staircase leading upstairs located at the northwest corner of the building and a smaller door near the bar itself that probably went to the cellar where the alcohol was stored. Just as he was thinking it was a good thing Liebgott and Leckie hadn’t asked any questions, the front door burst open. 

Two men came barreling in, swords drawn. Brad was already in front of the group, and he shouted at Nate to take the other two through the back door. Brad drew his sword because he would have no time to string his longbow. His eyes followed the bigger man’s hand as he plunged his sword forward. Brad was ready to deflect his blow and the force with which Brad hit his sword pushed the man backwards. They sparred, the metal of their swords clinking together. Brad tried to move them back out the door, but the other man came down hard. Brad stumbled and in that split second Brad noticed the second man’s sword coming towards him. 

The incoming blow was deflected by another sword and Brad wasted no time in plunging his sword into the man’s stomach. He fell to his knees with a blood curdling scream that was drowned out by the barkeep yelling at them to get out. The blood pounded in Brad’s ears and he looked over at Nate, who must have saved him. 

He was sparring with the other man now, who was fighting much more fiercely for the sake of his lethally wounded partner. He was almost reckless in the way that he swung his sword around, and Brad did not have the heart, or rather the lack of heart, needed to stab him in the back. 

“You were supposed to go,” Brad shouted as he leaned forward, studying the other fighter and readying himself for an opportunity to jump into the fray.

“Knights don’t run,” Nate shouted back. Brad edged closer to Nate.

“Knights are reckless.” Brad was trying to distract the other fighter long enough for Nate to deliver a fatal blow, but the other man was clearly not hearing anything. 

“This is not the appropriate time.” Nate’s expression turned from concentrated to angry and Brad was hoping that the other man would slip up and leave room for Brad to deliver a fatal blow. 

Luckily Brad didn’t have to contemplate how to help any longer. Nate knocked the sword from the man’s hand and Brad punched him in the face. The man’s head twisted to the right from the force of the punch, and his body soon followed. 

Brad quickly turned around to find Liebgott fighting off another assailant who had entered through the back door. They both had their swords drawn and even though Liebgott was shorter he fought like he had nothing to lose. Nate ducked around them to exit the back door and find Leckie, and Brad immediately stepped into the fray. 

“I can handle this man,” Liebgott was saying when he noticed Brad by his side, sword drawn.

But Brad wasn’t about to leave his charge. Two swords proved to be better than one and Liebgott finished the job with a lethal stab. The pair of them dashed out the door, hoping that they had defeated all of their attackers.

Outside, Nate and Leckie had the horses ready. The four of them mounted their steeds and kicked the horses towards the water. Tails fanned out behind the horses as the four of them weaved through bystanders. The fast clip-clop of thundering hooves filled Brad’s ears.

They rode until they spotted the dock and Brad slowed to determine if they had been followed. If nothing else, the barkeep would want payment for the mess they had left behind. 

He looked over at Nate and they both nodded. No one was behind them, but they had not made a very clean exit and none of them would be safe until the boat was well on its way. Brad dismounted and waited for the others to do the same. 

“Get them on that ship,” Brad said to Nate. He knew they were entirely too early for their rendezvous, but they had no other choice. He hoped their point man would be aboard already. The three of them commandeered a moored boat that had seemingly been abandoned and Liebgott and Nate took up the oars. Brad led the horses away as the three of them rowed out to the ship with the two French flags. 

Brad kept a diligent lookout, but kept glancing back at the boat bobbing up and down in the water. It looked tiny next to the large French vessel. Eventually a ladder was thrown over the side of the ship, and Liebgott and Leckie scrambled up. The pair of them waved at Nate, who began to row away. Liebgott and Leckie were quickly whisked off the main deck, probably to be hidden below in the hull. The sympathizers aboard the ship would take them to France, where they could escape to Switzerland, Germany or Austria. Their journey had only just begun.

Brad tried to walk along the dock and appear nondescript, but the four horses he towed with him were hard to miss. Nate finally arrived back on shore and the two of them mounted their horses without a word. Nate’s mouth, usually soft, was drawn into a taut line and Brad knew he was worried for his charges. 

“They will be fine,” Brad offered. Nate looked at him with hope in his eyes and damn if that look wasn’t inspiring and pathetic and idealistic and beautiful all at once. Brad’s horse snorted and Brad figured he was scoffing at him. Companionable silence settled between Brad and Nate as they walked around the outskirts of London, waiting for night to fall. They towed Liebgott and Leckie’s horses with them, but stayed on high alert for any signs of trouble. As they circled back to the dock for the fourth time, night had fallen and the ship had sailed away. 

Liebgott and Leckie’s horses were returned to the stable by Brad, because it was less likely that Brad would be recognized. 

“We should be getting back to the Palace,” Nate started to say. Brad felt himself clam up. He was hoping they could stay away from the Palace for a little longer. He didn’t have any ideas, although just being with Nate appealed to him. His horse snorted again and Brad _knew_ he was scoffing him this time. Brad should just call him Ray, Jr. 

“- although I wouldn’t mind staying gone for a night. Cromwell will understand.” When Brad met Nate’s eyes, he looked almost shy. Brad wondered if Nate had ever done something like this before, something so secret and so outside the bounds of Knighthood.

“I would like that.” Brad tried not to feel giddy as they rode to the outskirts of London. Apparently Nate knew a place.

Call him absolutely fucking insane, but he had already invited Brad to spend the night with him and there was no going back now. Nate doubted he could have made his intentions more clear. It wasn’t that Nate wanted to take it back; it was just that suddenly he felt the weight of this secret he had always kept from everyone. He had learned to look away from boys and let his gaze linger on girls, he had learned to avoid watching a man with strong hands sword fight, he had always resisted glancing back when a particularly attractive man walked away. But he had caught Brad doing all of those things to him. He wanted to answer the unasked question. Brad was riding along next to him, their legs bumping against each other.

Nate just wanted to be alone with him. 

Nate’s Uncle was amicable and happy to give them both rooms at his house, just like Nate knew he would. He simply said he had completed a mission and his Uncle asked no further questions. Their horses were safely stowed and fed in the stables and they walked back into the house. Brad shrugged off his jacket and Nate said good night to his Uncle and the oil lamp was blown out. 

He had planned on explaining everything to Brad, but once they tiptoed upstairs and shut the door Nate just pressed his lips to Brad’s instead. He captured Brad’s top lip between his teeth for a moment before he flicked his tongue out to swipe across Brad’s lower lip. Nate tipped his head slightly to the left and Brad relaxed into the kiss. 

Brad pushed back and soon tongues were tangled together. Nate’s hands wandered around Brad’s jerkin to squeeze his ass. They tumbled backwards onto the bed. The straw in the mattress made a scratching noise as they sunk into it and Nate whispered “shhh” to Brad’s mouth, as if that would help. 

Brad huffed a laugh and rolled them over. He seemed impossibility tall as he leaned over Nate. He came close so he could focus on Nate’s face. Nate took a deep breath. There were so many competing ideas in his head that he decided to let Brad choose. Brad kissed along Nate’s jaw and made his way to the bridge of Nate’s nose. Nate went cross-eyed looking at him. Brad sat them both up to untie Nate’s grey jerkin and toss it on the ground. 

Suddenly the room was impossibly hot. Nate struggled to get out of his hose while Brad was kissing at his neck. Nate’s fingers shook as he untied Brad’s jerkin and tossed it aside. He pulled over Brad’s undershirt and returned the favor, kissing at Brad’s collar bone. Even in the dark, Nate could make out scars on Brad’s chest. He watched, bemused, as Brad wiggled out of his hose and Nate started to run his fingers along Brad’s codpiece. He knew Brad couldn’t feel much through it, but the sight of his fingers _down there_ obviously pleased Brad. He moaned and Nate stole it with a kiss. Brad tossed his codpiece on the ground and removed Nate’s and now they were both naked. Nate ran his fingers back up Brad’s chest and over his nipple, and then wasn’t sure what to do next. He went in for another kiss and he felt like he could kiss Brad forever. But he slowed down and his hands stopped roaming. He was tensing up and Brad felt his hesitancy. 

“Nate, I could… I really want to have sex with you. But we could wait.” Brad whispered. Nate wondered how young he looked. He hated how unsure he was. Brad saying his name so tenderly made Nate lose all ability to think or plan or strategize. If he couldn’t plan; if he couldn’t be assured of the outcome; he couldn’t go through with it. He was not going to be able to muster up enough courage to have sex tonight, no matter how bad he wanted Brad. 

“Thank you,” was all he could whisper back. He pushed Brad over until Brad was on his stomach. Brad didn’t ask what he was doing and Nate had never felt so trusted before. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but Brad’s trust gave him more confidence. He straddled Brad and then gasped at the sight before him. 

“What happened?” Brad sat up on his elbows to twist around and look at Nate. His face was dark with concern.  
“You have a tattoo.” Nate hadn’t seen one so extensive before. Usually only sailors had them. They were often crude and black and obscene, but none of those words could be used to describe Brad’s.

“Do you hate it?” Brad whispered, his body suddenly tense. Tattoos were not at all common. But as Nate thought about when he had seen tattoos before, they had been on the exposed necks or arms of sailors. He had never been able to see a tattoo in any other place. He had never even thought of them existing in other places. Seeing Brad’s tattoo was intensely intimate and Nate’s cock twitched as he stared. Nate started to trace the lines of Brad’s tattoo in answer.

Brad breathed in deep and his skin felt hot under Nate’s fingers.

“I sailed on a mission years ago. We stopped in the Polynesian islands. I had seen tattoos before, but I was fascinated by the way these particular people treated their tattoos like works of art. I met an artist who said he could do what I described.”

“Did it hurt?” Nate asked as he began to massage Brad’s shoulders.

“Only for the first few weeks.” Brad groaned as Nate worked through a knot between Brad’s shoulder blades. Nate’s cock bounced against his own stomach. He noticed a few scars on Brad’s back and he couldn’t imagine what those could have been from. Nate realized how much he still didn’t know about Brad. His heart ached with how badly he wanted to learn all those things he didn’t know.

“So what do you say about trying again?” Brad’s voice was husky and Nate was powerless to that tone. Nate let him up, and Brad’s cock was red and leaking. 

Nate leaned down for a kiss. He licked down Brad’s chest, past his belly button, to his hip bones. He nipped and he was rewarded with a groan. 

He touched Brad’s balls, massaging them between his fingers. He felt the weight of them and stared at the head of Brad’s cock. 

“You don’t have to-” Brad started to say, but Nate wanted to. He covered Brad’s cock with his mouth and enjoyed the weight of the head on his tongue. He wanted to suck Brad all the way in, but he teased first. He stuck his tongue out to put pressure on the underside of the shaft and he hallowed his cheeks. He pulled off to make Brad sit up and Nate sank to his knees next to the bed. He sucked him all the way in this time while he gripped Brad’s thighs. Brad put his hand on Nate’s head, steadying himself. Nate moved back and forth along Brad’s cock and moved his right hand between his legs to touch himself. Brad noticed and pulled his own cock from Nate’s mouth. Spit connected Nate’s lips to Brad’s cock for a moment before Brad pulled him up to lick at the inside of his mouth. Nate shuddered at the blatant dirty gesture and he had never wanted Brad more.  
As much as he wanted to fuck Brad, pound his ass while following his tattoo with his fingers, Nate knew that Brad would have to go first because he would have to teach Nate. He said as much, and Brad was ready to oblige. Brad stuck his fingers in his mouth to get them wet.

Two warm fingers teased at Nate’s hole after they both were back on the bed. Nate was on his back and Brad was exploring his mouth with his tongue. Brad stuck one finger in and kissed him greedily and Nate was entirely distracted until Brad stuck a second finger in next to the first. Nate did not feel pleasure from that particular action, but he felt a sense of completeness. Like this was what was supposed to happen. He moved experimentally and sensation shot through him. Brad followed Nate’s lead and moved his fingers around and in and out, and Nate almost forgot to breath.

“Stay with me,” Brad whispered hoarsely. Minutes felt like hours and the details of those moments didn’t register in Nate’s brain. 

Nate locked eyes with Brad. 

“Ok.” 

“Ok?” Brad looked down at his cock, and he looked almost surprised that it was still there. He had been too busy fingering Nate to even touch himself.

Nate nodded. His instinct was to brace himself and squeeze his eyes shut, but instead he focused on Brad’s face as Brad entered him. It was hot and impossibly tight and Nate stared, fascinated, when Brad’s cock started to disappear inside him. He gritted his teeth as it started to burn and hurt, but then he met Brad’s eyes. Brad’s eyebrows were crinkled and his lips were parted and he looked so turned on that Nate wanted to do whatever it took to keep that expression on his face.

He pushed himself against Brad so that his cock sank further in. Brad pushed back as an automatic response and Nate groaned.

“Do that again.” 

Brad thrust in and out, slowly at first as he propped himself onto his elbows. He kept changing rhythm as he tried to find the best way to support himself above Nate without crushing him, but judging by his expression he was having a hard time focusing. 

Nate pulled Brad down on top of him and held his shoulders. Brad breathed hot and heavy in his ear as he started to grind down into Nate faster and harder because he only had to worry about moving his hips. His sweaty chest stuck to Nate’s and they moved together. The stretch and the intense burn threatened to overwhelm Nate but the pleasure and the satisfaction he felt with Brad inside of him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. 

Nate’s fingernails scraped along Brad’s back as he locked his ankles above Brad’s back. Brad started to get frantic and Nate tried to watch his face but then Brad was coming and whispering “fuck” in Nate’s ear. 

Nate reached between them to jerk his own cock and Brad made to pull out. Nate stopped him.

“I want to come with you inside me,” Nate gritted out as he jacked the head of his cock. Brad’s expression did him in, and cum spilled between them. Nate looked at his cum, so white against Brad’s tan skin. He ran his fingers through it, and Brad grabbed him by the wrist to lift Nate’s fingers to his mouth. He sucked Nate’s fingers and Nate was surprised at how he enjoyed the depravity. Nate’s whole body was tingly with pressure and nothing really registered after that.

Once back at Court, Brad watched Nate seek out Cromwell in the Great Hall. He noticed so much more about Nate now, like the way he led his stride with his right foot or the way his lips pressed together lightly when he is thinking. Nate nodded at whatever Cromwell said and disappeared down a corridor. Brad barely registered Cromwell coming towards him.

“Mr. Colbert. The King is pleased by your service and wishes to reward you. Would you like a permanent Court position?” Cromwell folded his hands behind his back, like this was just a formality that was wasting his time.  
Brad thought about it for longer than he should, because of Nate. He thought about what it would be like to be around him all of the time, seeing his smile every day, helping him complete missions.

“Sir, I think I need to be getting back to my estate. I sincerely thank The King for such a gracious offer.” Brad bowed.

“Indeed.” Cromwell nodded and walked away unperturbed.

Nate walked back into The Great Hall and Brad felt guilty as soon as he saw him. He knew that what he felt for Nate was real, but the idea of living at Court forever disgusted him. 

Before Nate could even sat down, Brad spilled the truth.

“I turned down a promotion to stay at Court.” He rushed through it and when he clamped his mouth shut after, Nate’s expression shifted and his eyes flicked over Brad’s face. Brad expected disappointment, but Nate looked _proud_. 

“I’m going to be leaving Court tomorrow,” Brad added, wondering if Nate had actually comprehended what he had said.

“Brad, of course I’m glad for you. You’ve never liked it here and now you can do what you’ve always wanted.” Nate grinned and Brad was still confused. Nate’s complete lack of sadness or at least anxiety made Brad question everything they had done the night before.

“What I mean to say is I’ve been reassigned. I sweet talked the Duke of Suffolk and I’m going to have a regional post in Suffolk. I might not be able to live at your estate but I will certainly be able to go often.”  
Brad punched him in the arm.

“Next time lead with that, damnit.” 

“I just wanted to be sure you did what you wanted to do. I don’t want any of that self-sacrificing bullshit.” Brad looked up at Nate and his green eyes turned fierce. Brad felt like he was being undressed by Nate’s eyes and he doubted he could pull off a smoldering look like that. He shivered, but not because he was cold.  
“Under the house of Tudor, many things are possible.” The words dripped off of Nate’s tongue as Nate subtly mocked The King. Brad stared at Nate’s mouth. It quirked at the corners as Nate surely must have felt Brad’s gaze. Brad was still speechless. 

“There are arrangements to be made.” Nate turned and walked towards the Duke of Suffolk to engage him in conversation about the state of the people of Suffolk, no doubt.

Regardless of where they were or what they were doing, Brad could always appreciate the determination Nate exuded when he walked or talked. Everything he did had a purpose and although it was contrary to Brad’s instincts he couldn’t help but admire Nate. Nate was nothing like Lady Rose, nor would he ever be.

For once, Brad was picturing the future. It involved him and Nate eating dinner together occasionally after a long day. It involved Brad completing more missions and making Nate proud. It involved seeing Ray and Walt and his mother and father. It involved happiness. 

Brad pictured both his horse and Ray snorting at him.

Amidst Brad’s musings, Nate returned to him.Brad resisted the urge to touch. A mischievous smile spread across Nate’s face and he dropped his voice to a low whisper.

“You realize I am endeavoring to find out everything I can about you, Mercenary Bradley Colbert?”

“I trust that you are, Sir Nathaniel Fick.” Brad was enjoying this new, forward Nate. He was comfortable and that made Brad comfortable. Maybe that was what Brad had needed all along; someone to show him what hope and happiness and comfort meant. Brad was having a goddamned emotional epiphany and it was all Nate’s fault. 

“Even if no one ever gets to know the true nefarious intentions of our lives, I should really write a book about this whole thing.” Brad laughed so deeply that others in the Hall turned to look at him. Nate laughed too, but his eyes belayed his intentions to do just what he had said.

Under the house of Tudor, many things were possible indeed.

  
[(Historical Epilogue)](http://drop-mypencil.livejournal.com/17631.html)   



	4. A Historical Primer for 'Sub Rosa'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A compilation of the research I did for Sub Rosa, including photos of the characters from The Tudors.

A Historical Primer for 'Sub Rosa'This fic starts off in the **year 1529** in England in the prologue, but jumps to 1532 for the rest of the fic. This places it at the very end of Season 1/the beginning of Season 2 of _The Tudors_. Most of the events take place in London, because that is where The King of England and the royal court spent most of their time. At this point in English history, England and much of Europe is on the brink of political and religious turmoil and one of the greatest religious reformations of the western world will take place within the next decade. Traditionally, English monarchs had always been Catholic and kept in close communication with The Vatican and The Pope. 

King Henry VIII (who is the King at the time of this fic) had gained a reputation for being a hot-headed pleasure seeker at a young age. His last name, or family name, was Tudor (hence the show being called “The Tudors”). His older brother, Prince Arthur was destined to be King and was promised to the King and Queen of Spain’s daughter, Catherine of Aragon, so that Spain and England would be connected through the marriage. Prince Arthur died at the age of 15 and left King Henry with both direct ascension to the throne and his wife. When his father King Henry VII died in 1509, King Henry VIII took control of England and married Queen Catherine of Aragon (his dead brother's widow). It was known throughout the Court that during his youth and throughout his first marriage, King Henry VIII had many mistresses and enjoyed partying, drinking and jousting often. He also had gone to war and was known for his skill on the battlefield and his willingness to jump into a fray. King Henry VIII met Lady Anne while he was married to Queen Catherine, and Lady Anne served as one of Queen Catherine's ladies in waiting until King Henry decided he wanted to divorce Queen Catherine. Divorce was strictly forbidden by the Catholic Church, but King Henry's mind was set. He restocked his political cabinet with people that would support him and took a near desperate stand against the Catholic church in order to marry Lady Anne. This rift between King Henry and the Catholic Church is what began the official reformation in England. Queen Catherine was kicked out of Court by King Henry VIII before the divorce was made legal.

Like mentioned above, King Henry officially started the reformation by breaking ties with the Catholic Church. He would eventually place himself at the head of a new church, The Church of England. Prior to this, religious tensions were high in England. When writing this fic, I could not ignore the way religion and politics were inescapably intertwined. While most English citizens were Catholic (because Catholicism was the official English religion), there were other Christian minorities as well as Jewish citizens who practiced their religion in secret. The Protestant movement was so named because Protestants wanted to protest against the Catholic Church - they did not believe in worshiping relics or idols, and they believed individuals could form their own relationship with God by reading the bible themselves. Catholics considered Latin a holy language and the Bible was only to be read and interpreted by Catholic priests trained in reading Latin and God's word. Protestants were captured, beaten, and burned at the stake by Catholic leaders throughout this time of transition. The most famous execution by burning at the stake location was called "Smithfield". This is not to say that Protestants were innocent- Protestant groups would capture and torture Catholics as well.

Obviously, people couldn’t communicate regularly with each other. Many long distance adventures were beginning to be financed by rich businessmen and monarchs at the time of this fic, and family members often did not know when their loved ones would return. Also, although England had an army and a navy there wasn’t really a special forces within the military. The special forces of today’s military can be more closely equated to **mercenaries** , who specialized in certain weapons or certain skill-sets and were hired out by many different groups including the government. The most badass mercenaries at the time of this fic hailed from Germany.

The best way to **show class** (and prove how rich you where) was through the clothes you wore. The more intricate the designs, the more upper class you were. The second best way was to have many servants or stable boys. To be a servant or stable boy for a very wealthy or well-renowned family was considered an honor, especially if that family was the Tudors. All royal pages had to wear the uniform of the house of Tudor, which was red with the Tudor rose on the right side of the chest. The King's **knights** were one of the most noble careers a man in England at the time could aspire to. Not only did the King have to approve of knighting someone, but the entire group of existing knights also had to approve. The knights were called "The Knights of the Garter" collectively. It was hard to research just how a Knighting ceremony would have gone down, so I took some liberties with that part.

As for the title, _**Sub Rosa**_ literally means “under the rose” but was also understood to mean “in secret”. The House of Tudor’s symbol was changed to a rose during King Henry VIII’s father’s reign (King Henry VII). The Tudor rose symbol was created to mark the end of the “war of the roses”. By combining a White Rose symbol of the House of York, and the Red Rose of the House of Lancaster, both sides of the war were acknowledged. During King Henry VIII’s reign the symbol’s double meaning was solidified after the rose was painted on the ceiling of a private chamber where secret political meetings were held. The title also refers to Brad's struggle to let go of his ex-wife, Lady Rose.

A brief guide to the **historical characters** : I based all of my characters on the portrayals in _The Tudors_ so their historical accuracy is questionable. 

The characters that I don't have pictures for are Lady Rose, Lady Margaret, Lady Alice and the Spanish Ambassador. Lady Rose I completely made up for the sake of the fic. Lady Margaret wasn't really featured in the show, but she was Queen Anne Boleyn's best friend and most trusted lady in waiting. She went everywhere that Queen Anne went. Lady Alice is Sir Thomas More's second wife. She had a reputation for being very plain looking and very headstrong, but also was very loving towards More's children (she didn't have children of her own). The Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys, was the liaison between the Spanish monarch and King Henry.

  
King Henry VIII and Queen Anne Boleyn, who is King Henry VIII's second wife

  
Queen Catherine of Aragon  
King Henry VIII's first wife  
Believed she was the rightful Queen

  
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk  
King Henry VIII's childhood best friend and trusted adviser   
Believed Queen Catherine was the rightful Queen and did not trust the Boleyns  
Was banned from Court by King Henry at different times for voicing his opinion

  
Cardinal Thomas Wolsey  
He served as Lord Chancellor (aka Chief Adviser), the highest member of King Henry VIII's Court  
Failed the King by not convincing the Pope to legalize The King's divorce

  
Thomas Cromwell  
Accomplished lawyer and writer who replaced Cardinal Wolsey as Lord Chancellor

  
Sir Thomas More  
Was Lord Chancellor before Cardinal Wolsey, but resigned after The King made public his commitment to divorce Queen Catherine and marry Lady Anne

  
George Boleyn  
Anne's brother (she also had a sister)  
He was in a secret relationship with Mark Smeaton (pictured on the left and below)

  
Mark Smeaton  
Queen Anne's official court musician  
He was in a secret relationship with George Boleyn (above)


	5. A Historical Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering what happened to England after my fic ended.

King Henry VIII did split from The Catholic Church to create the Church of England. He officially divorced Queen Catherine after this happened. He eventually would reconnect with his daughter of his first marriage, Lady Mary, but she was never welcome at court while Lady Anne was Queen. She would eventually claim the throne after King Henry died and would become known as Bloody Mary.

Queen Anne gave birth to King Henry's only other daughter, Lady Elizabeth. Queen Anne's court was overrun with scandal soon after she gave birth to a stillborn child. People who wanted her ousted because she was Protestant claimed she was a witch. She was accused of adultery with Mark Smeaton and George Boleyn and was eventually beheaded. Mark Smeaton and George Boleyn were executed as well. King Henry would remarry 4 more times after her. His third wife was Jane Seymour and she gave birth to a son, Edward. That pleased the King, but she died of complications after childbirth and the King was stricken with grief.

Cromwell set up King Henry with his fourth wife Anne of Cleaves from Germany, who greatly displeased the King because she was considered unattractive. Cromwell thought the marriage would help end the religious turmoil and make England a truly Protestant country, because England and Germany would become allies through the marriage. Cromwell was investigated when the King blamed him for all the ills that had befallen him and his Protestant-biased plans was revealed. He was executed for treason in 1540. 

The fifth wife was named Catherine Howard, his youngest bride. She was nearly 30 years younger then King Henry. She was caught in an affair with one of King Henry's pages and was executed. King Henry's England was fairly dissatisfied with him after the war with France and the English Reformation and it is speculated that King Henry just wanted to bring calm to his court in his old age. King Henry pursued an affluent English Widow named Catherine Parr to take care of him and his court. She acted as a mother to his children. King Henry died in 1548 and was survived by his last wife, Catherine Parr, his two daughters and one son.

King Edward VI, Queen Jane Seymour's son, ascended to the throne at the age of 9. His advisers ruled through him for 6 years, until Edward became seriously ill and signed the throne over to his cousin, Lady Jane Grey. Lady Jane Grey was executed when Lady Mary seized power. Queen Mary I's 5 year rule was one of the bloodier times in English history, as she tried and executed many Protestants to try and wrench the country back to Catholicism. Mary became very ill and died, and Lady Elizabeth succeeded her.

Queen Elizabeth I, Queen Anne Boleyn's daughter, was the last ruler of the Tudor dynasty. She ruled successfully for 45 years and her relatively peaceful reign is now known as the Golden Age. She reestablished the Church of England as a separate religious entity. Her reign is what is emulated in Renaissance fairs worldwide.

**List of Resources**

[Glossary of Words](http://www.thetudorswiki.com/page/Tudor+Words+Glossary) used in _The Tudors_

[More Old English](http://www.ibequeaththee.com/oldenglish.html)

'Sub Rosa' was heavily influenced by the book [_The Queen’s Lady_ by Barbara Kyle](http://www.amazon.com/The-Queens-Lady-Barbara-Kyle/dp/075822544X). _The Queen's Lady_ is about a Catholic Lady in Waiting to Queen Katherine who has to reevaluate herself and her country as she is exposed to both terrible and freeing situations in Tudor England. 

[A Brief History of Tattoos](http://tattootemple.hk/history-of-tattooing): English tattooing was popular by the 18th century after sailors would come home with tattoos or Polynesian slaves.

[Explorers](http://www.enchantedlearning.com/explorers/brits.shtml): Sebastian Cabot worked for Britain to find a NW passage across North America in 1508. He was hired by Spain in 1526-1529 to conduct a trip around the world. He only only made it to Rio de la Plata (Argentina and Uruguay). His journey inspired how I wrote about Brad's voyage in the prologue.

[Jewish People in 16th Century England](http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/vjw/England.html): Jewish people were making their way back to England, but full integration was slow. Henry VIII used Jewish scholars to justify his marriage annulment. 

[More About Jewish People in 16th Century England](http://www.oxfordjewishheritage.co.uk/english-jewish-heritage/174-exclusion-period-for-jews): Jewish people were expelled from Spain in 1492: prior to that, Jewish people would come to England pretending to be Spanish merchants. Henry VIII welcomed Jewish scholars, but tolerance was low unless you were a musician or entertainer for the court. 

[German Mercenary Hisotry](www.landsknecht.com/html/history.html): Landsknecht were famous German mercenaries, often fighting against each other on both sides. They were not used by Britain but had a fierce reputation.

[More about German Mercenaries](http://suite101.com/article/landsknechts-colorful-mercenaries--a4091): Landsknecht were highest paid mercenaries. Positions were pikemen, swordemen, and gunners (1500-1600s). 

[Mercenary Weaponry](http://suite101.com/article/renaissance-warfare-weapons-a365474): Body army fell out of use as popularity of crossbow, longbow and cannons increased. Longbow was the leading weapon. Gunpowder use for cannons was being developed and was considered somewhat dangerous. 

[History of the Knights of the Garter](http://www.royalcollection.org.uk/microsites/knightsofthegarter/)

[History of Jousting](http://www.medieval-spell.com/Medieval-Knights-Jousting.html)

[Details of Queen Anne's Coronation](http://tudorhistory.org/primary/abcoronation.html): The Coronation was actually the day after the Coronation parade.


End file.
